


When the Lost are Welcomed Home

by homeforthemissing



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, Alpha Jason Todd, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Like I'm Not Joking, M/M, Mild description of violence and injury, Omega Tim Drake, Platonic ABO, Referenced depression, Slow Burn, Tim is a Sad Boi, and Romantic ABO, brief depictions of torture, lost and found family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 76,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homeforthemissing/pseuds/homeforthemissing
Summary: Tim found Bruce in the time stream, but since leaving to find him, Tim has mostly disappeared from the family. He has minimal contact with them, excluding Jason. Tim brought Jason back into the Bat-fold, but will someone bring him back in before its too late?In which Tim is an Omega and hiding it, this can only end one way.will keep the tags updated. Rated teen for cussing and canonical violence and themes.Inspired by Fracture by wintersnightChapter 24 has been re-written!
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 536
Kudos: 1372
Collections: Fan Fiction Addiction





	1. Secretly Nesting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Distractions II: Tumblr Edition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10261475) by [wintersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/pseuds/wintersnight). 
  * Inspired by [Fracture](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5156417) by [wintersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/pseuds/wintersnight). 



> I've read and really enjoy a lot of the Bat-fam ABO fics out there and was just wanting to play around with it.  
> Tim and Jason really do have it rough in the comics, I want to give them some happy endings. Having said that, almost all of my background comes from fanfics, so if something is off feel free to let me know or just assume Creative License. This is also my first fic on here, my first Batman fic in general. So please let me know if I mess something up. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it and please please please leave a comment to let me know if or what you liked! I'm thinking about re-writing this to also be non-ABO, so let me know what you think!
> 
> Edit: I've tried changing the format

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: really minor changes, mostly just spelling errors.   
> I headcannon that within two weeks-three months of presenting as Omega or Alpha, the scent starts changing, meaning that Damian can be pinpointed as young-alpha even though he hasn't presented a first rut yet.

Replacement?”

Jason cautiously tiptoes around the house, sidestepping a chair that had been pulled out from the table. Certainly not the way Jason had left it. At the lack of response, he pulled his .44 from his thigh holster and cocked it, he’s already announced his presence by foolishly slamming the door earlier, not having been in a position to see anything had been moved.

“Tim?”

Whoever came through his safe house knew how to disable all of Jason’s security, from the fancy stuff Tim had put up, to the old-fashioned locks. None of it had been forced, just undone. Which limited Jason’s people pool tremendously, either he was walking in on a Bat-ambush, or a bat of some sort - probably Replacement - needed something from him that they couldn’t or wouldn’t get from the Big, Bad Bat.

Jason grumbles to himself. He doesn’t know why, but members of the Robin club tend to prefer coming to Jason for injuries or emotional help far away and over trying to bring it up with Bruce. Now Jason isn’t unreasonable, Batdad-Bruce could be the most emotionally constipated creature on planet Earth, and having met some hand-to-God aliens, possibly the universe. He understands not wanting to go to Bruce for emotional problems. But Jason? Jason certainly should NOT be a good contender for it either, what with all his “unhealthy” - looking at you, Dick - death jokes and willingness to break the no-kill rule, not to mention on more than one occasion Jason has actively tried to kill them. . . He really should be the last person they would think to go to. But alas, it is not so. Just last month the Demon brat had broken in, in his arrogant Bruce-like way, and waited in the dark for Jason to return.

Like a creeper.

He almost shot him.

Then again almost shot him just for sneaking in rather than acting like a normal person and knocking.

Yeah.

Knocking.

It’s a thing people.

Jason continues to pick his way through, he scents the air surreptitiously, hoping to catch a hint of Tim’s barely-there-Beta scent or Damian’s young-Alpha scent as he keeps looking around. Between the two, it’s surprisingly, almost always Replacement that breaks in. He and Replacement have the best relationship compared to the rest of the bats. It’s a special sort of weird that the robin who probably had the most reason to hate him is actually the one what had pulled him back to the flock. Granted it had not been done with Jason’s knowledge, the sneaky little shit had done it in small, inconsequential ways, passing on info on how best to avoid the Bats, on incoming gangs, sneaking medical gauze and eventually straight up pulling his ass out of the fire and stitching him up.

It went from shared cases to shared spaces, now they have keys to each other’s safe houses. Jason hadn’t realized how much he had been pulled back until he woke up from a huge ow-fuck in the Batcave with Alfie. During his forced stay there - dude no one says no to Alfie - Replacement had somehow managed to keep the Bat away long enough for him to get away. There was some sort of twisted poetic justice in the one robin who bore the brunt of the Red Hood’s hate - a permanent scar necklace - being the one to bring him back.

A little bit further into the living area and Jason scents the air again, finally catching a whiff of what is definitely the Replacement’s scent, something he only had as the prominent, rich boy Tim Drake. His mild honey and cream scent smell just as stuck-up as his raisin'. Scents are not exactly conclusive to having a secret ident, even if it is a mild Beta scent.

Which meant he probably wasn’t walking in on a half-dead body, but there was no guarantee with Tim. He had mistakenly thought that before, only to come home to a Tim Drake in a bloodstained suit so nice it could have bought Jason’s whole apartment building. More likely than not it was either an emotional problem or an exhaustion problem. Jason far preferred an exhausted, passed-out Tim to an upset Tim. Not that the replacement was overly emotional, the exact opposite, he typically just moped and sulked about until Jason let him work on one of his cases or update his helmet or something.

The Nerd.

Jason only owned a single bed, one-and-a-half bath flat, because even though he had tons of money he tactically accrued from Red Hood shenanigans, he refused to use more of it than he absolutely had to. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was blood money, and the only way to wash the blood off of it was to put it to good use. Every dime he made that didn’t absolutely have to use for gear or survival, went to charities he and Tim vetted, or directly to the working gals and street kids. Which means he only has enough for shitty, apartments, much to Tim’s annoyance and irritation.

Don’t know what the kid’s got against ‘em, but to Jason it’s home. Not only is there comfort in the old, leaky pipes and the drafty roof, but it keeps him close to ground when something happens. Gotham has Batman and all his robins, but what does Crime Alley have? Red Hood. There’s enough crime happening in the small area that is Crime Alley and its surroundings to keep him more than busy. Just the way he likes it. The only downside to the small boltholes, is when the little shits come to visit. Someone’s gotta take the couch, and it sure as fuck ain’t gonna be the one what actually pays the bills. So knock knock Replacement, Jason thinks as he opens the bedroom door.

***

Nobody could know. Tim knows, but nobody else. Nobody. It couldn’t happen, it’d be the end of him, even he could admit. Even a hero has limits he can’t surpass or some close approximate quote about everyone having a limit. This was it for Tim. The only Robin to not be an Alpha. Even Batman was an Alpha.

The only non-alphas in the group of Bats are Alfred and Babs, who are Betas, like Tim. Except not. Because Tim is a faker. A fill-in. A liar. Not fit for the role of Robin. Sure, there were other vigilantes that were Omega, Wally and Wonder Woman for example, and Kryptonians don’t have a caste.

But they aren’t Tim, drowning in an Alpha environment. One where he already isn’t welcome, the possibilities and the risks of one of the bats forcing him to quit is too high. Not to mention being officially wrote off from the family. Damian already smelled of young-alpha, eventually he would present, and with Dick and Bruce’s hands-off raising, it could end in a fate worse than death if he is found out.

Which makes everything he is doing dangerous. As soon as he found out, he synthesized suppressants stronger than anything that would ever be approved by the FDA or Bruce, as well as enhanced the scent-blockers worn on the skin. He had two types, one for civilian life, that left just a hint of a scent, mild even for a Beta, and one for vigilante-ing it up. As a vigilante, he can’t afford to be scented, even if someone were to scent his neck or wrists directly.

The designs also had to be altered to be stronger than Bruce’s. It was water, heat and sweat resistant, and was covered by a thin film of protective layer to ensure it couldn’t react with anything Crane or Ivy released. But the thing about having them so strong, Tim admits, is that they have a strong downside in that the side effects are extreme. The scent blockers are finally worked out, so long as he doesn’t wear them for longer than 24 hours at a time they are fine, anything longer results in a irritating rash that has to be given at least two days to heal to prevent it from getting worse.

The suppressants are a problem. He has to come off them at least every other month to suffer a heat, they have weakened his immune system, already dangerous from lack of spleen, his blood is thinner, and suppressants being hormonal, means they mess with all sorts of things like appetite, weight gain, and- oof - heightened emotions and Omega urges. Tim shudders at the thought.

But there isn’t another option. Dick already replaced him and allowed Damian to not only try to kill him, but completely push him out of the family, and he hadn’t so much as heard a grunt of thanks from Bruce after he saved him from the time stream. Babs is too close to Dick, Tim loves Babs, but her loyalty will always come down to Dick.

Tim had kind of tried talking to Babs before searching for Bruce, but she had the same view as Dick. That Tim has gone through a lot of heavy trauma in a short period of time and maybe ought to take a break and talk to a shrink. Not worded quite so harshly, but nonetheless, her coins were with Dick. That left the Titans and Red Hood. Tim had seen the Titans since they all had come back to life, and God wasn’t that just a kicker, but when they all met up, it had been unanimously agreed that it would be best if they spent time with their respective mentors to help heal.

Tim knows he can still call them up and they will come, but he won’t do that unless absolutely necessary, they do all need time to heal and readjust. They started meeting once a month two months ago, and are talking about upping it again to twice a month to try to slowly ease back into working together. New faces and old all had to learn how to work together, either again, or anew, compensating for new techniques learned by the few survivors - ahem - mostly Tim. He could admit he had changed a lot, had to overcome no longer working with a team, fighting the Council of Spiders, and Ra’s has changed his fighting style drastically.

Tim operated alone now, he was a big vigilante and if he wanted it to stay that way, he is going to have to stand on his own two feet. He had finished presenting right after finding Bruce, that being the tipping point that sent him into his first full-blown heat.

Terrified and alone in some no-name hotel, he had hunkered down with the shower on, desperately hoping it would help dilute his scent, while spraying enough air freshener to almost require a rebreather. As soon as it was over, he started on making his own place, a place where he could hunker and stay, to nest and have heats. A safe space only he would know about.

As CEO he funneled out some funds from the Batman fund, knowing Bruce would eventually question him on why and where the money was going, except that never happened. Bruce was far more focused on the new son, the one everyone knew was approaching a first rut. A full-blooded alpha son. No competition to the once-adopted Beta, and Tim's no fool, he knows he can't hide being Omega forever. But there's things he needs to have done before then, and it is a long and complicated list.

Bruce still hasn’t made any move to take the company back, even though Tim had approached him one of the few times there were alone together, and tried to talk to him, about how stressed he is, how thankful he is that Bruce is back and can start working with him again. But Damian had interrupted, and Tim didn’t have it in him to bring it up again. Tim’s emancipation never came up either, so he found an old warehouse. It is nearer the Bowery and Crime Alley than the mansion, while also close enough to WE to keep commuting from being a hassle.

It was also much cheaper real estate, and if it looked a little grungy on the outside, well that was even more reason for no one to question it. The first state of order had been to make a heat room, a room no one could get in, could get to him. That was hidden in case the bats found it, or he dragged one back, Tim couldn’t help but smile thinking about how far he and Jason have come. Jason now sometimes even hits Tim up when injured, rather than running off to hide his hurts. He wouldn’t mind giving Jason and the Titans access, but he’d prefer to keep the rest of the bats out.

Oracle of course knew he had a place, unlike Bruce, she had noticed the funds disappearing, and had grudgingly allowed that it would probably be easier for everyone to calm down if he had his own place. So long as he let her help him set up security. Tim accepted; you’d have to be dumber than stupid to turn down a security offer from Babs. Not only is her security the best of the best, but she would also keep the bats off his back about it. If it’s Babs approved, it’s generally left alone. Of course, Tim still added his own security measures and emergency shut-off protocols, but hacking and security were Bab’s strength. Tim had gotten better, was good to begin with due to Robing training, but still, no one beats Babs in her specialty area.

Now this is all swell and good, but as an Omega, he still suffers nesting instincts, heightened by the suppressants. It got so bad, that on last patrol he had stayed so long with a mugging victim, having scented her fear, that he saw the cop car pull up. He had barely managed to make it to the top of the building before the cops approached the young girl, also an omega and still absolutely terrified.

His instincts left him stuck up there, even after the cops had left, giving the girl-Emily his mind supplies-a lift home. The overwhelming need to have helped more, to have wrapped her up in his cape and nestle her into his body heat, to scent her to calm her, never left. He ended up puking vehemently and didn’t stop until he was dry-heaving, only thick-yellow bile coming up. It took an additional twenty minutes to feel like he could move.

Which is how he ended up here.

At Hood’s main safehouse, hoping he had more time before Jason returned home. Tim is really not sure how much longer he can keep this from Jason.


	2. Secretly Nesting:II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This back tracks a little through Tim's thought process on his way to Jason's safehouse, then ends with Jason's reaction to Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment to let me know what you guys like or don't like! They are greatly appreciated!  
> Note: briefly edited, mostly just spelling errors. Ra's and Tam know he is Omega because he was within that weird timeframe where he hadn't yet presented with a first heat, but his scent was changing to accommodate the changes.

After puking up everything including this morning's pitiful breakfast, Tim lay his forehead gently against the rough rooftop. Tim squints cautiously through his sweat-soaked bangs, making a mental note to get his hair trimmed soon, to see an almost opaque sky, the start of a pre-dawn, smog-filled morning in Gotham. Tim groans at the fast-rising sun, not conducive to secret idents and he hugs his stomach harder as he shifts up, stumbling to a standing position. Where he doubles over again and immediately dry heaves, not even bile coming up anymore. He staggers and turns away from the puddles of sick.

He can't help but give himself points for managing to not go down again, but he needs to keep going. Should try to get at least three or four hours of sleep before going to WE. If he was a good vigilante, he would not leave the biohazard that is his puke on some roof for one of Gotham's many sickos to find. B always inspired a strong sense of paranoia about leaving any sort of DNA at a crime scene, but Tim reasons, this rooftop isn't a crime scene, and should be fine to be left until tonight. He will bring in one of their cleaning kits and dispose of it then.

But right now, Tim is on a time crunch, after a spell like this, Tim needs some form of sleep, or Tam will send him home early, regardless of all the important deadlines he has to keep up. The board doesn't appreciate Tim having any sort of say in WE, and will use anything and everything they can against him. Tim is doing everything he can to not lose his position. One day Bruce or Damian will take it back, and in order for that to happen, Tim can't fuck it up now. He makes it to the edge of the roof, gaining momentum and feeling better now that he is on his feet and moving.

Tim thanks whatever deity is out there that his system is finally starting to calm down, the nausea still has his stomach roiling and his balance wavering, but it's settling out into something Tim can handle. He launches his grapple and starts the long journey to whatever safe house is closest. His joints protest the first swing, but loosen as he continues. He is on the edge of Crime Alley, about thirty minutes from the Perch. But. . . Tim stops to deliberate, there is something closer, and with as shitty as he feels, he needs whatever is closest.

The more sleep the better, the board has already made some stabbing comments about his priorities, and falling asleep or appearing hungover, while okay for playboy Brucie Wayne, was not something Tim could allow to happen more than a few times. But Jason has a safe house, maybe ten minutes from here, much closer than anything Tim's got.

So long as the scent blockers continue to do their thing, it should be okay, Tim decides as he starts heading for Jason's. Tim will need to cut out from work early so as not to compromise the scent blockers, but Tam will help. She knows about him. Found out when he smelled of pre-heat while caught up in Iran with Ra's. Ra’s also knows, but neither one is about to go running to the press or the Bat-fam to tell them. They both have their reasons, and it's something Tim doesn't like to think about.

Ra's knows, and has changed his interactions from normal creepy, old assassin king, to pervy, assassin king who wants the "Detective's offspring." Tim can't help a shudder, if Ra's didn't know his dynamic it would be a compliment, but he knows so instead it's just uber creepy. Tim is thankful when he finally touches down on Jason's roof. Tam will help him get out at noon, will just send him home with the paperwork rather than make him stay.

Tim crouches on the windowsill to start the process of turning off Jason's security. Babs left a backdoor for him, at Jason’s discretion of course. The only reason he has made it as far as he has with Jason is because he allows Jay to set boundaries and respects them. He taps out an impatient beat on the worn wood of the frame, as he waits for the system to shut down completely. Tim doesn't particularly want to be fried by the electrical trap thanks. Tim can't help but rest his head against the frame, his stomach is still protesting, but now his calves are too, burning from staying in the awkward position.

There's reasons he likes to come in as a civilian rather than a vigilante, and this is part of it. He can't help the wispy sigh that slips out when the system beeps, telling him it's safe to jimmy the window open. Tim carefully slips the lock open with a batarang, Jason kept a simple window lock because of how often he comes through the window as Hood.

And Tim has never been more grateful for such simple forethought. He slips through the window, quietly sliding it behind him. He leaves it unlocked in case Hood comes through tonight, a silent head's up that Tim is there.

Tim pulls out his change of clothes from the bag he keeps here. Mostly it has emergency medical supplies in it, as well as some tools for basic gear updates and repair, and of course the scent blockers and hidden in the seam is an emergency suppressant pill. Tim pulls out the pair of beat up jeans and shirt to sleep in.

Since the clusterfuck that was the past year, he sleeps better in street clothes than in sweatpants. Something about already being dressed left a sense of security that sweatpants just don’t have. Tim is careful to zip up the bag before heading to the small bathroom to shower and change.

He locks the bathroom door and slides a door stop under for good measure, lighting a strong-smelling candle to help minimize the possibility of his Omega scent seeping in and settling into the room. Tim would be more worried about leaving his bag here if it weren't for the fact that even if someone dug through it, without significant inspection the scent blockers could be mistaken for B's brand, and all of them having to wear it minimizes the likelihood of being found out that way. Tim carefully peels the blockers off and throws them away. He can't risk his scent giving him away, so a quick alcohol wipe over the area is all the airing out the skin gets before he slaps on his Timothy Drake blockers. He will have to remember to make sure to air it out on the car ride to WE, and later that evening.

Not quite so strong as Alphas or Omegas, Betas still have some scent. Tim makes the shower as fast as he can, the more sleep the better, maybe he can make it through the whole day at the office. The more time there the better. He changes quickly and blows out the candle. Jason had initially snarked at him for always keeping candles in the bathroom, asking Tim if the air quality was that bad how he thought he was able to patrol Crime Alley properly. But after that one-time Jason had the stomach flu. . . it's turned into lighthearted teasing about Tim’s delicate sensitivities.

Tim stows the Red Robin suit in the duffel and shoves it back under the bed. He keeps a suit in the beat-up Honda he has stowed in the parking lot for tomorrow. It's not often that he crashes here, but on the off chance something like tonight happens, he needs a backup plan. If Tim learned anything while being on his own, it's that there's no such thing as too many contingency plans.

Tim decides it’s best he at least try to get something in his stomach. Choosing a glass of water and a protein bar from the kitchen before heading to bed, he sits down at the table long enough to type out that email to Tam, chewing slowly and sipping on the water between bites in the hope it will help settle his stomach.

Once he is done, he wipes off the table, washes the glass and goes to curl up in Jay's bed. He pushes from his mind how bad of an idea it is to keep coming to Jay’s safehouse and steadfastly ignores how much the Alpha scent in the air has calmed his system. He drifts off the a blessedly dreamless sleep almost immediately.

***

Jason raps his knuckles roughly against the door, opening the unlocked door before the last rap even lands. And yep, there in the middle of his full-size bed, is the Replacement. Jason stood in front of the now open door, light casting his shadow across the bed. Tim is curled up on his side, on top of the blankets like a heathen. Jason can’t help the frustrated sigh, if it's not one kid it’s the other, and dear Lord don't get him started on Dickie and Bruce's awkward attempts to get together with him.

The unfortunate part about this is that it’s Tim. Jason can't in good conscious drag him out and on to the couch again. He tried that once and the guilt that curled in his gut kept him tossing and turning all night, something it hadn’t done when he did the same thing to Damian.  
Jason turns on the bedroom light and closes the door behind him, but there's no reaction from Tim. None whatsoever.

For someone who trained under B, the kid could sleep like the dead. And Jason would know, having been dead once himself. Funny death jokes aside, Tim really did look like death warmed over, his skin was pale, his cheeks flushed a concerningly pretty pink, and Jason could see goosebumps across his arms. With an annoyed huff of indignation, Jason tugged the blanket out from under Tim, who only raised his head once to squint at Jason. Only giving a grunt in acknowledgement. Jason tossed it carelessly over him, already resigned to breaking out the cot.

Well, that's a lie, it's already out and set up, that was supposed to be where Tim and Damian slept. But the little shits typically take his bed, and Jason doesn’t have the heart to kick them off of it.

Besides he sleeps better on the cot.

Yep.

Honest.

The Red Hood is not a softie. You could not be a softie and a crime lord at the same time. Once the cot was set up, Jason turned off the main light, it clearly wasn't going to fulfill its purpose of annoying the Replacement. He wanted to take a quick shower anyway, nothing better than washing off all the street grime and phantom screams than a nice cool shower.

The bathroom smelled strongly of Replacement's stupid, fruity-scented candle. But even under that, Jason could smell Tim's scent. Quite strongly actually. Jason flared his nostrils in response to the mellow scent of honey and Gotham.

Jason grimaced, Tim seemed to be the most paranoid out of all of them, having seriously taken to heart B's stupid speeches. Catching any of Tim's scent was uncommon, it was typically really washed out by the scent blockers. Tim was paranoid enough before B got ahold of him, from what he heard at least. You don't survive sneaking out to chase Batman and Robin for years without developing a healthy sense of caution.

Jason put it out of his mind, changing gears to trying to think of a candle Jason could replace this one with that would annoy Replacement. It was much harder to push his buttons than Jason ever thought. Either that or he was so good at masking his emotions that no one could tell. Which would be a problem, but not Jason's. He is only a couple of years older than him for God's sake. He ain't a kid, and clearly has been able to take care of himself, Jason thinks as he climbs into the water.

Letting the coolness of it work out the sweat and heat he churns out while patrolling Gotham's worst. After washing all the street grime off, Jason dresses quickly, eager to fall asleep. One last glance at Tim before laying down shows he is no longer wound up in a ball, but loosely on his side, the blanket pulled up to his chin. Jason falls asleep easily to the steady rhythm of another person's breathing.

When he wakes, Tim is gone, the bed neatly made as always. The only thing to show anybody else had ever been there is a note on the dresser mirror. A quick glance around shows even the chair and rug had been straightened before his departure. The note is the typical morning-after note. A simple offer to either smuggle in Bat-grade medical stuff, even though Jason is on speaking terms with the bats does not mean he wants to run into them more than necessary, or to repair his helmet or gear.

The first time Replacement had done this, he had found Tim passed out from blood loss in his safe house. Even now Jason hates to think about what would have happened if he hadn't broken into Tim's safehouse for information that night. Jason had been freaked the next morning at not being able to find any trace of Tim, or even the medical bandages. Damn paranoid bat.

But that night when Jason went to his own safehouse, he found the pantry restocked with all his favorites, and a receipt for some ordered cast iron. Jason had almost cried. Cast iron cookware. More than made up for it.

Even though he was used to it, it was still unnerving that Tim could just sneak in and out without waking him. All the training he has under his belt and he can only recall two occasions that he was woken up to Tim moving around. Not to sound dramatic, but Jason was of the opinion that if he ever got a fire under him, Tim could take over the world, and nobody would be able to stop him.

Not that Jason thought he would, but then again, Jason was a perfect example of that. From an almost perfect hero, to a crime lord so feared even the big gameplayers in Arkham thought twice before messing with him. So Jason will do what he can, he can see the same possibility in the Demon Brat. He was raised by assassins and even with B and Dickie working at him, was not sold on the whole no-killing rule.

Besides that, Jason refused to watch another Robin died. One was more than enough. Jason remembers, if he searches far enough back in his hole-filled memory, a time when every time Dickie and B saw each other, it erupted in verbal altercations more painful than any actual sparring match, their angry, upset Alpha scent permeating the air. And so he will do everything in his power to ensure that they not only survive, but they have a non-bat figure they can go to for support. Besides, it helped calm the Pit, for some bizarre reason. Specifically caring for kids or non-alphas leaves a distinctly satisfying feeling in his chest.


	3. Just Another Day at the Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tam helps Tim get home faster, compiling the paperwork and sending him out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the kind and helpful comments!! They made my day and are very encouraging!! Please leave a comment on what you like or didn't like, they are so very appreciated it.
> 
> So I do apologize for this chapter, this part was supposed to be a brief paragraph...but evolved into this monster. Tim wasn't cooperating, so we got Tam. Right now I'm trying to set the stage, kind of lay out the groundwork, what his life is like in and out of WE and working as a vigilante. I'm hoping to introduce more of the batfam members next chapter.  
> Notes: Just mild editing here, spelling errors

Tam has acclimatized to working with Tim. It isn’t harder than working with Bruce, it's just different than she thought it would be. She thought she would be working for the next Brucie Wayne, having to make excuses and rearrange meetings, and handle almost the entire workload.

Tim surprised her. She knew he had to be driven and motivated to push the issue, to become emancipated, after having lost another parental figure, and show up to the board and politely but authoritatively insert himself into the business. The board had initially just tried to keep him out of the loop, thinking if they just scheduled the meetings without telling him, or continuing discussions after he left. But Tim didn't give them the chance. No matter what, he always found out about the meetings. He was the first one in and the last one out.

He pulled as much of his weight as he could, and didn't stand for disrespect, while also somehow being one of the most caring businessmen she’d ever met. Tim had a room just for gifts and cards for birthdays and celebrations his workers might have, from the highest official, to the janitors and security guards, they all would receive a gift thoughtfully arranged. It had been Tim’s idea, but he had asked Tam to head it, feeling he wouldn’t be able to find acceptable gifts and overdo it. He also didn't stand for discrimination or harassments of any sort. He kept in close contact with HR about any complaints filed.

Tim also brought in a lot of younger, new faces, from all sorts of backgrounds and dynamics. He headhunted them from competitors, usually looking for ones who complained of harassment or being underpaid. All these new people with new ideas given funding granted him a loyalty within his company. Everyone knew if they had a problem with the way something was handled, they could send an email and Tim would personally meet with them to discuss it. While this made him appear soft and was something some tried to abuse, Tam had never seen someone actually manage to take advantage of Tim or force him to change things unless they gave an insight to something he missed. The board had also tried to use this against him but had not managed to use it in a way that truly had any impact.

The new people who came in didn't take over any current employee's positions, they were all given very specific tasks. The main focus these new people came in for was the R&D Department. Tam was no fool, she knew what the newly developed tools went to, but almost all of the tools were used to strengthen relations with military, medical or manufacturing businesses.

Under Tim, business boomed with the new influx of technology, Wayne Enterprises had always been known for having great technology, but now its name had expanded. It was constantly getting new contracts on new equipment, always looking to better things. Manufacturing was looking for cleaner energy alternatives, something Tam thought was a secret appeasement to Ivy. Medical expanded greatly, new research into helping faster treat and identify effects of explosives and poisons, something that was all too common in Gotham, however Tim made great strides to also making the research available for military questioning and testing. Tim had done amazingly well in his first interview. He announced these changes by appealing to the people.

"Explosions are explosions, whether in a desert across the ocean, or in Gotham. The effects are the same. If our research can help, then let us do everything we can to help not only the city of Gotham and its amazing first responders, but also our military. If we can make their work and its long-term effects easier on them, then they deserve anything and everything we can do to help."

It was right after that he had announced a new annual gala in honor of "Fallen Heroes, both domestic and international."

The funds raised that night would be split evenly between the VA and organizations like Backstoppers. Revenue started going up as Tim made true on his word, and after stealing a reporter off of Gotham Gazette - she had complained of being underpaid, and unable to report on things that mattered - he had a publisher working on monthly magazines.

The magazines were updates on medical equipment and synthesizing faster working antidotes to known toxins, specifically Scarecrow, Ivy, and Joker. Making the new knowledge easily accessible was a gamble, but one that turned out to work in his favor. Gotham's people felt he really had their best interests in heart. Tim wore the mask of a grieving young man trying to prevent more orphans well. It appealed to many, and no one could truly find something bad to say about him. The worst that had been said was his short visits to galas and him showing up to work looking hungover or ill. After the fourth time it had made news, Tim held a press conference, talking about mental health - another risk, but one that hadn't hurt - but had made reporters back off some, ashamed they'd been harassing what is technically a minor, a mere high school student who had just lost his last blood relative. He had talked about depression and anxiety after his parents, how hard it was to continue adjusting to missing their presence and advice. Something that Tam knew was bullshit, and that irritated the board. But after six months, things have settled down. The press and the board have mostly acclimated to Tim and his changes. He set up a fundraiser for Mental Health Awareness then as well. Tam knew the lead up was bullshit, but it was a decent cover.

With all that said, while Tim was easier to manage than Bruce, he was no saint. The number of times Tam had to rearrange schedules on excessively short notice, or times she had to show up for something he should have had to do were still much higher than her position called for. But every time Tam thought to say something, she remembered just how young he is, and how much more even keeled he is than Bruce.

When she had confronted him about it, he had made allowances, explained about scheduling around his heat, how he could show up for short periods but certainly not the whole day, his weak immune system, his other job, and him trying to prepare for the GED, she felt guilty he had ended up where he had. In her opinion, as soon as Bruce was somewhat functional, he should have gotten the paperwork out of his name. But Tim had already it prepared, and it still sat on her desk. They talked for a long time, talking about how to work around his scheduling without leaving her high and dry. He had listened intently and since then, always gave her updates and contacted her if it was at all possible he would be late or missing something. It was then that they also worked out what absolutely had to be done at work, and what could be sent home with him.

She remembered how relieved he had looked when he asked her for the papers, how he was going to ask Bruce if he was ready to take it back. But Tam had come back early the next morning, to find Tim standing blankly at her desk, unsigned papers in hand. He had turned to her, looking so pale and young, and said, "He doesn't want it back, Tam. He wants it to be my job until Damian can take over." His voice paused and cracked around Damian's name.

Tam had felt anger surge through her, boiling hot, as she took in Tim’s appearance. He looked so exhausted, but more than that, resigned to the incredibly stressful fate of keeping a Fortune 500 company in good handling. She didn't know what had happened, and frankly didn't want to know. The less she knew, the safer she was. But that family needed to pull their heads out of the sky before Tim worked himself to death.

She knew about the suppressants, and how Tim was still working out complications and kinks, and just how strong they could be. She will never forget the first time she saw their effects first-hand. She had tried to get Tim to go to a hospital, but the mere mention of it had freaked him out so bad she had to abandon the idea. Blood and vomit everywhere, so pale and sweaty, eyes bright and fevered, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, bent over the office trashcan.

Something was broken in that family, and the one to suffer was Tim, Tim was going to be the one to break under the pressure. She shook her head in frustration, the printer finally mechanically spitting out the last page. Tam had spent the last forty-five minutes printing off the last of the paperwork and preparing to send it home with Tim. It would have taken longer, but Tam and Tim worked together as much as possible to stay on top of it and keep it prepared for him to take home. During his heats, which he had told her he would have to have every 6-8 weeks, they would send him home with all the paperwork that still needed to be looked over, approved or checked. And he would work on it, scan it in and send it to her as he finished it, and bring the physical copies in on the days he made it in.

His heats were still unpredictable, they might last a few days, or up to a week. On the longer ones, he came in for the early meetings, claiming a stomach bug to get out quickly. It had worked for now, but eventually it wouldn't. Tam gathered the last stack, sliding them carefully into cardboard boxes on the office cart with the rest of the paperwork. A quick glance at the watch showed it to be nearing one o' clock, the time they agreed to try to have him out by. She shuffled the papers one last time before pushing the cart to the elevator, taking it up to Tim's floor.

Once up to his floor, she knocks on his door gently to let him know she is there. The door unlocks immediately, and she pushes it open. As always, Tim gives her his full attention as soon as she walks in, pushing his desk chair back from the monitor.

"Hey Tim, got all that paperwork ready for you. Same organization as always, sign, mark, read, highlighted yellow is concerns about plans, orange is new arrangements. I have not made it through all of it, but at least half of it is marked, the rest of it is up to you, as always feel free to email me questions. The rest of this paperwork," she gestures to the second stack. "Is updates and progress reports on research, and at the very bottom is reminders for upcoming birthdays and the like."

His face is pale, well, paler than usual, and two red spots on his cheek clue her in to a probable fever, his bangs are sticking slightly to his forehead. His eyes are a little bloodshot, but he looks with it enough for her to not be too worried. She can only worry about so many things, and his personal health is not one of them. Her job ends with the company. She can make sure he gets home to rest, but from there it is out of her hands.

"Tam, amazing as always." He shoots her a charming grin, the lines and tension in his face and shoulders relaxing at the prospect of leaving. "This company runs on you," he tosses her a languid wink, the easy appreciation always makes her feel like she truly makes a difference.

"And don't you forget it." She easily tosses back, "now scoot! Quick before it gets taller!" Tim chuckles,

"As soon as I finish this email." He turns back to the monitor, fingers flying across the keyboard. He looks back up when he is finished, already having closed all the other programs in anticipation of leaving.

"Do let me know if there's anything else I can do to help." He makes full eye contact with her when he talks and pauses when he is done, waiting to hear if she has anything else to say. When she doesn't have anything to add, he nods and gives her a smile as he slides on his tux jacket, having taken it off as soon as he was out of the early morning meetings.

"In that case, have a good day Ms. Fox."

"Take care Tim, I'll see you when you get back in." She steps out first, pulling the cart back out of the way before he has to, and takes her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to pass this up, this is more of a personal note. 
> 
> I'm now on spring break! This weekend was pretty stressful, I had hoped to have at least another chapter go up, but my university has officially sent all non-essential personal home. Meaning I have officially lost my research, my paid summer research, and my testing center all in one foul swoop. The online proctoring system is over run and temporarily shut down, and I had to send some emails out to professors to see what I should do to find a new proctoring system. With all that said, I'm starting the next chapter tonight but don't anticipate it being uploaded until tomorrow some time.


	4. Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim made it to WE and Tam makes his work possible. After a day at WE, Tim heads home and gets ready for patrol. Jason heads out on patrol early, hoping to catch Tim before meeting up with the other bats for a new gang and a shipment at the docks.  
> Note: spelling error fixes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's doing alright with all the stuff going on right now. School and life is stressful right now, so make sure to take a minute and breathe. 
> 
> As always, drop a comment and let me know what you think! Next chapter should go up in the next day or two, things are starting to pick up!

Tim POV

Tam is a godsend.

An actual angel.

Tim loves her.

Of course only in an actual business/co-worker capacity. Tim would not be able to survive, WE would have fallen to the hungry wolves that are business men without her. Tim knows he has done quite a bit to better WE, but without Tam's support he doesn't know how he would have survived.

He makes a mental note to send her one of those fruit edible arrangement things, and maybe a bonus, while dropping the boxes into the trunk. The hinges protest and whine when he slams the trunk closed on his crappy looking Honda, another mental note to oil those before they get worse. The thought is interrupted by a sharp shiver that wracks his frame.

Tim squeezes up against the side to make it to the passenger side, he can't help but mumble a complaint about the other guy's parking job, especially at the sight of a new dent and a paint scratch matching the other car's door perfectly. The shitty parking job makes it almost impossible for Tim to squeeze into the driver's seat, he has to walk sideways and shimmy. The door opens, at his insistent tug, but it isn’t even enough for him to get his knee through. Tim glances around, and huffs frustratedly at the realization he is going to have to get in from the passenger side and crawl over the console.

He got this car to stay under the radar, and he is grateful for it at times like this, when a scratch doesn't matter. The engine typically stumbles and coughs before it cranks over and the car has some rust on the undercarriage, a dent on the rear quarter, and a new red ding in the beige paint job, but all this just makes it better serve its purpose, i.e. keeping Tim under the radar. Tim has his own parking space as CEO in a much nicer area of the parking garage, and he should be parking a flashy car up there, but to Tim, all he sees is a security risk. So he left one of Bruce's fancy cars up there, and parks this car down on the lower level.

Once Tim finally manages to collapse into the driver’s seat, he pulls out carefully, and heads for the Perch. Already looking forward to soaking in a hot bath before running a brief patrol. Tim let his mind work on autopilot to get home, the cars and traffic lights blurring by, the cramps worsening, and he can feel a drop of sweat trickle down his forehead. He tunes back in with a shiver, the hair on his arms standing up and a chill racing down his spine. The car has been off long enough that the radio turned off, he is mildly concerned that it took him that long to notice, but it is what it is.

Tim climbs out of the car carefully, a quick glance around shows the well-lit concrete walls of the basement in the Nest. He stiffly closes the door, popping the trunk with the fob to get the paperwork, it's times like these that make Tim really wish he had an elevator up to the first floor, but he doesn't. It would catch the attention of all the wrong people. He would have to do all the work on his own, no way is he letting anyone else in, this is HIS nest. His space.

He takes only one of the two boxes, plenty of time to work on the other half tomorrow, might be the day after, judging how thick the stack he is taking up tonight is. But first, a bath, he can arrange it then, schedule out how he is going to hunker down for this not-heat while letting the skin under the scent blockers air out for a good hour or two, closer to three would be for the best. And while suppressants block the worst of the symptoms, it doesn’t block all of them, just helps manage them. By the time Tim makes it to the top of the stairs, out of the chill of the basement and into the warmth of his kitchen, his head has started spinning mildly.  
He sets the box down with a thump, and he shakes his arms out a bit to get the blood flowing again. He takes the first paper folder out, it’s always well-marked, just the stuff that needs a cursory look and a signature. Tim grabs a quick granola bar and iced coffee out of the fridge before heading up, normally he takes his coffee black, but some days it's nice to treat himself to a sweet coffee, the extra zing from the sugar is always nice. Coffee and paperwork in hand, Tim heads for the bath, nothing better to loosen the aches and help the chills before a patrol.

Once he is soaking in his bath, cup of sweet, creamy coffee in one hand, paper in another, he starts planning out his route for tonight. After a sip, he stretches a bit, getting a feel for how deep the aches have settled, and yeah. Definitely edging closer to Hood’s territory tonight. It would be good, just in case something goes south. Tim knows he can call him and Jason will come. They had similar ideas about vigilantes dying. It was one of the big ways Tim had managed to wrangle his way to Jason after all. Tim won't need him, but he didn't survive this long without constant back-up plans. The Omega side of him preens at the idea of someone coming if he called, and having backup plans and people has certainly never led him astray.

Tim knows the bats are busting a new gang near the docks, also bordering Hood's territory, and Hood will probably be near there. Hood likes to make sure things go smoothly that close to his territory. The bats so far have been pretty good about respecting Hood's boundaries, but that doesn't mean they don't like to see how much they can push. Especially B and Dick, they have ways of accidentally doing things that get under Jay's skin and sending him back underground. Hood also likes to stay in the loop, likes to see what the new gangs look like. Well, that's what he told the bats, but Tim knows better. With new gangs, Jason knows just as the rest of them, there's always a chance of a new wild card, new weapons or toxins, or it could turn out to be a cover for something far more sinister. All of which had happened before, it's Gotham, even the likely and common can turn weird and dangerous at the drop of a hat.

But all of them being by the docks kind of leaves the rest of that area open, and seeing someone in that area, even if it's Red Robin and not the scary Red Hood, it's better than leaving it all open. A good reminder that even if something goes down elsewhere, the bats will work together to patrol other areas. So that's his plan, border the edge on the rest of Hood's territory and edge into the bat's side. From what he heard over comms, it sounds like it's just Dick and Dami tonight, it’s around midterms so Steph will either make a brief appearance around, or not at all. They should be occupied during the brief period Tim is out and hopefully not cross paths. They will be fine, should be little fish tonight, they've got Jason if things go sideways, and if it goes FUBAR, O knows she can call him on the comms and he will come, even though his comm is always muted.

He took to muting it right after he got back, and he wears it less now. When Tim first got back, Dick and B had tried repeatedly to hail him on it just to corner him, "just to talk." And well, he hadn't appreciated it. Dick had acted, and still does act, like nothing happened, like he hadn't just ripped Robin out from under him, the last thing Tim had keeping him sane, and sat by passively as Damian not only told him to leave and not come back, but cut his wire mid-swing.

Tim can't go back to that, and he certainly can't pretend it didn't happen. So he hacked his comm, it shows it as always active, lost the tracker, and now it rings directly to his cell when he isn't wearing it. That way if anything bad does happen, if a big emergency call goes out, he can still come. But he keeps his end muted. It might be a petty move not letting them hear him unless he wants them too, but he feels justified in it. Comms are for business, not fucking around and trying to clear a guilty consciousness. Tim will come, always has and always will, but that doesn’t mean he wants to talk to them about it if he doesn’t have to. Unlike his friendship with Jason, the only thing they have in common is a similar goal, and that’s basically where that relationship ends. O hadn't appreciated it, had yelled and lectured him initially, but since he hadn't changed anything else, just the one thorough update, she left it be. 

He drains the last dredges of his coffee, the extra sugar starting to hit his system, making his veins buzz under his skin, before pulling the plug on the bath and stepping out. Time to gear up.

***

Jason jumps from the fire escape, landing solidly on a would-be mugger. Adrenaline zings in preparation of a fight, but it's just the one guy, and judging by the crack Jason heard when he landed, the guy won't be able to put up the type of fight he's needing. The Pit is pulsing a little closer to the surface than normal, he can feel it alongside his heartbeat.

He steps off the downed would-be thug, holding his hands in the universal symbol for 'I mean no harm’, before stepping closer to help them. A young woman faces him, fists held tightly in a mimic of a fighting stance loosening in recognition. Instead a hand flutters to her chest in surprise while a young boy peers up at him from up above. Hood crouches down, making sure to stay a solid six feet away, he knows he cuts an intimidating figure, even though the people knows he helps them, there's no sense in being a creeper. Looking at you, B.

"You'ns alright?" The thick gothamite drawl rolls off his tongue, another comfort to his people. There ain't no mistaking where he came from, this is his, he crawled these alleys just like the rest of them, and Gotham took its pound o' flesh on the regular, just like everyone else in this shithole of a town.

The boy, somewhere between five and ten - hell that's not Hood's thing alright, it ain't easy guessing age when they're all scrawny and rough - lurches forward in excitement. "Hood! You came!" his voice is young, full of awe in a way that makes his gut clench in guilt, he really shouldn't be anyone's hero, but the Pit and his inner alpha preen at the praise. He did that, he helped them. He helps them pick up the scattered groceries, bidding a quick "be careful out there now" and moves further along his patrol.

Dickface and Bat-Brat are kicking out a new gang tonight, near the docks. Spoiler might be there too. A shipment is coming in, and Jason is ready to reshape someone's face, maybe even collect some molars. And while it's certainly a pain meeting up with Golden-boy, if he gets a spoiling of a fight out of it, it might just be worth it. Jason's patrol starts heading towards the docks, he has plenty of time to get there, its barely dark out now, but rule one of being a bat is always be the first one there. Being sneaky is good and all, but getting in and settled into good hiding spots and getting the lay of the land is the best way to go. Surprises are never a good thing in this work. Also, Jason's hoping to catch a glimpse of Timmy somewhere, kinda check in.

His weird little mood things always throw Jason for a loop, makes him feel uneasy. Jason remembers being where he is now, feeling completely on the outs with everyone, and while Jason is proof one can survive no contact with the rest of the hero world, he found Artemis, Roy and Bizarro. They hadn't been there for all of it, but he wasn't on his own very long. Point being, the Replacement isn't in a good place, Jason can see it for what it is because he's lived it, and in many ways still is living it.

Jason hasn't completely reconciled with the bats, but they have a peace. He knows he can go to them for Alfred's patching up and lectures, or the Batcomputer for easy police record access, but Dick and B are still real cautious around him, the air tense with uneasy Alpha pheromones, and it wears on him, making his hackles raise in response. They are looking for an emotionally stunted, painfully awkward talk, and Jay sure as shit don’t want to hang around for it. He doesn't want to hear their reasonings, Joker isn't dead, a thick line drawing a chasm so deep between them Jason won't ever hope to cross it. Which is also why he has to keep a look out for them. It's practically Robin-code to accidentally get yanked into the biggest fucker inna fight and get their ass beat. Jason ain't looking for another death, spoiling for a fight maybe, but there's enough death and emotional pain without looking for it. So, Jason reasons he's gotta get to the docks 'fore they do, get nice and settled to watch from afar. But he's gonna have to be quick if he wants to look for Baby bird at all. Maybe it'll settle his nerves a bit.

Don't know what the kid's got, maybe it’s just the fact he's a Beta like Alfred, but there's something calming about his presence. Jason mentally shrugs. Maybe it's Tim’s infuriatingly logical brain. Whatever it is, it would be beneficial for both of them. Make sure he ain't face down in a dark alley or some shit, and maybe he can talk Tim inta Bat-watching duty, go home, nap it off.

Jason pauses his trek across rooftops, to think about it. Maybe he could, call it a night early, let Tim handle Dickie and his messes. . . Images of Tim last night and others slide across his mind, a quick slideshow of deep purple eyebags and exhaustion so deep it's seeped inta Tim's very being. And shakes his head in disappointment, with an irritated huff before continuing on, swinging off the roof. Tim tends to keep close to Jason's territory, more so than the bats. But if they don't cross soon, then they just won't, in which case Jason will just keep an ear to the ground for the next day or so. Make sure he don't do nothing stupid. A smart, little genius like Tim oughtta be double able to stay outta trouble, but nah. All those contingencies and shit work for him, but trouble stalks him like death stalks Jason.

But after running around and subtly looking for him, it’s now officially two hours before the shipment comes in, and Tim's outta time, Jason will just have to check on him later. He looked pretty rough last night, and there's a pattern to that particular look, tends to last a few days of real quiet. But two hours means Goldie and Bat-Brat will be there in 'boutta half hour. Jason grabs the motorcycle he stashed and starts the ten-minute cross-town trip. Perfect amount of time to get the lay and settle in to watch the bats to filter in.

As soon as his feet hit the rooftop of a warehouse across from the docks, Jason knows something's up. His hackles raise and the Pit flares in anticipation, he can practically taste a fight in Gotham's smoggy air. There's nobody here, nobody. Something's off. Shipments like this come and go all the time without a problem and little fuss, so why aren't there more people down there. It's too quiet. Jason taps his comm hailing O. "Something feels off here, O. Tell them to come prepped and cautious-like, hoping I'm wrong," a quick glance around, a swivel in place in his crouch low on the roof. But it just confirms the wrong feeling. "Don't know what, but feels like something's up."


	5. Strife at the Pier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shipment is coming in tonight, and it turns out to be bigger than the Bats thought it would, they end up calling in Tim. Before Tim can get there, Jason gets dosed with something. Tim meets an old friend, and Jason comes to the conclusion that Tim has more secrets than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-consensual drug use as well as fighting scenes in this chapter. I'll put a brief summary in the end notes if you don't want to read it, just stop when Jason is fighting with Dick and gets hit from behind.  
> I had to rewrite the first paragraph, I accidentally deleted it. Let me know what you guys think of the fight scene, it's the first fight scene I've written, so please be nice. With that said, comments are so very appreciated!! Thank you for your continued support and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!  
> Note: Tim's scent has been changed, in two of the early chapters I had said it was honey and cream. Sorry

"Nightwing and Robin will come to you as soon as they're done talking to the police at Leslie's, attempted armed robbery."

O's calm voice filters in through his comm, most of the time he finds it super annoying, but right now with the Pit buzzing beneath his skin in warning, it does come across as calm and confidant. Jason has to stop surveying the dock and blink in confusion, thinking back on what O said.

"Wait, what sorta dumb fuck tries to rob the clinic? Everyone and their brother knows that's the Bat's." Jason shakes his head at the stupidity of some of the low-level thugs, as he goes back to looking over the docks. O hums in response before ending their connection, she’s probably looking over all the notes on the new gang and their shipment again and checking the cameras in the area, looking for a possible trap.

While he's staying rather impatiently at the top of the roof, watching the dockworkers come and go, Jason’s skin suddenly prickles sharply, and his hair stands on end. It feels like someone's watching him, but just as suddenly as he feels it, it goes away. Just in time for Jason to hear the two quiet thuds of Dickie and Damian landing on the roof. 

"Little Wing, how's it going?" Dick's voice is soft, it grates roughly against Jason's ears. It's just so damn irritating how Dick and B try to dance around him, like he's just gonna lose his shit at any point. Jason ignores him in favor of looking the two of them over, Dick's got a split lip, and Damian's cheek is red in a way that promises to bruise by morning, but they look fine otherwise. He turns back to the edge of the roof, pointing down at the people below.

"Something feels off here, Big Wing, take a look."  
Dick comes closer, while Damian meanders around, checking the perimeter no doubt, like the paranoid assassin baby he is. 

“Hey wait, is that a ship?” At Dick’s questioning tone, Jason comes closer to peer where Dick is pointing. Sure enough, it’s a ship. And it shouldn’t be. According to the shipping logs they had, there isn’t supposed to be anything until the shipment they’re waiting on.

They've been watching the ship pull in from afar, once it’s close enough a quick comm in to O reveals that it's definitely their ship coming, but it's coming in over an hour earlier than it was supposed to.

"Time to split up." Dick spoke up, looking to Jason mostly, but gesturing subtly for Damian to come nearer.  
"You've got a nice view here Hood, Robin and I will be up over there, looks like a good view." Dick gestures almost directly across from where they're at, it would allow them to use a bit of a pincer tactic, kinda hit from both sides.

"Sounds good 'Wing, head out 'fore they finish docking." Dick nods in acquiescence before he and Damian take off, they take a roundabout way, trying to stay out of sight. Once in position, they turn the comm lines on and check in. This is turning out to be bigger than they thought, and even if it turns out it isn't it won't hurt for them to stay in constant communication. They hunker down and wait for the ship to dock.

In the meantime, Jason switches out his bullets, from the Bat-approved rubber bullets, to the real thing. Jason's not up for taking chances, when it comes to things going sideways, it's better to be over-prepared than under, and clearly the info they've gathered is bad. Jason slides the pre-loaded cartridge into side pockets on his pants, as well as tucked into the inside pockets of his jacket, zipping it up about halfway. Rubber on the left, bullets on the right. An easy system for if the Pit calling got a bit loud, much harder to accidentally kill someone with rubber. But for this first cartridge, Jason's ready, whatever they're up against. Except not, because Jason is suddenly knocked forward.

HARD.

He manages to stick an arm out to block his face, but the sudden knock forward still hurts. The gravel surface of the roof digs into his arm and the side of his face, causing pin-pricks of pain, but Jason ignores it, quickly rolling to the side so he's at least on his back instead of his belly. He's got a gun aimed up before the roll his done. A ninja stands over him, farther back than he thought they would be. He lurches to his feet quickly, "We got company boys" spoken into his comm, but he ignores the response, attacking the ninja.

It looks like your normal assassin, dark clothing, concealing most of the body, armor on top thick enough to make the figure androgynous, and head shaved bald. He swipes a hard haymaker, and a kick to the ribs. The fist doesn't land, but the kick does, the assassin rolls with it though, in a move that has Jason thinking of Ra's group. But Ra's doesn't have any claim in Gotham, and certainly wouldn't be so dense as to allow word of his shipments to reach the Bats. Jason's brows scrunch, unless he wanted them to find him.

The assassin charges again, this time feinting high then going for a leg sweep. It knocks him off his balance, but the good thing about being so big, is Jason is hard to knock down. Jason stomps down hard, aiming for large body mass before the sweep is over. He misses but it puts space between them.

"Little Wing, could use some help down here." Dick's strained voice breaks his concentration for a second, but with Ra's group, a second is too long, and Jason takes a hard strike to the face, followed by a strike to his midsection that has him stumbling back, blood dripping from his nose. Rather than stay up here and bait whatever distraction this is, Jason takes a running leap for the edge of the building. He shoots a grapple out to one of the shipping cranes at the last second.  
Having spotted one of, what looks like, Scarecrows goons cornering a clearly injured Robin, he aims his swing for the goon, landing a solid hit to the side of the goon's head. He grabs the kid in one arm and hauls ass out of the middle of the fight. Dick's been fighting for years; he'll be fine long enough for Hood to figure out what happened to Robin. Kid's a distraction if he's hurt, and that's the last thing Dickie needs right now. He hunkers them down behind some big shipping crates, it's got Rob's back and left side to a wall, the right blocked by a stack shipping crates, the only way in the single way forward. While it forces them into a corner, it's out of direct sight of the fight. As he sets Damian down, shoving a gun down at the kid, this one with rubber bullets, the kid groans and hisses.  
It makes him take pause and actually look at the kid, he immediately wishes he hadn't. The kid's arm definitely is broken, slightly crooked, but not sticking through the skin.

"Hood to Red Robin, come in. Gotta bit o' a big type situation at the docks." Red can come play pick up.  
"Red here, show me en route, ETA five, what's up." Red's voice is hard and tense, they don't call for nothing.  
"Need a pickup for a little package." Damian snarls in protest, starting on some rant about being able to fight just fine, but Hood's having none of it.  
"Stay the fuck down Demon, I know you crawled your way outta hell but that don't mean you oughtta make it a habit." Knowing that's not enough for the idiot to stay put, damn Assassin ethics, Jason looks for something for him to do. "Look through that crack," Jason points to a sliver of space between the rusty edges of the crates, while yanking on the straps of his helmet, "see the ship, watch and tell us if more comes out or if they start moving the rest of the shipment outta here. If you abandon your post and those hit the streets the deaths that follow will be on your head, feel me kid?" Jason registers Dick's shocked "Jason!" in admonishment, but ignores it to shove the helmet on the kid’s head before leaping up the side of the crate to join Dickie in the fight. There's only one way to really make sure the kid stays put and doesn't get hurt worse, and that's appealing to the way he has been raised, however harsh it sounds, Jason needs to know he will wait there for Drake. He lands hard, using his momentum to swipe down hard into a thug's legs, carefully avoiding the needle the guy's waving around.

"Got some sorta toxin here boys." He calls out a warning.

"Fantastic." Is Dick's dry reply. Dick and Jason keep up the fight, going loosely in a back-to-back fighting style. Until something heavy punches Jason, landing solidly on his back and shoving hard forward. Vaguely he hears Dick's cry of alarm and the Replacement's voice demanding to know what's going on, but he ignores them in favor of striking out. He feels a hit land, a welcoming "oof" resounding from his attacker, before something is hooked around his foot and he is yanked a few feet further away from Dick. He manages to stagger up, trying hard to remain up as he is continually yanked by his foot. He comes face to face with the same assassin he did on the rooftop. They looped a rope attached to a pole around his foot and have pulled him close, his foot now in their hands, they twist it as he struggles. 

"You again." Jason jumps up and forward, shoving his captured foot hard into the assassins' chest, follows up with a sharp jab to the head, but they don't release his foot. Even though both were solid hits, it barely slows the assassin down, and this close, he can see a very familiar looking scar across their throat, meaning it's been slit before. This close he can make out his attacker is female, not that it means anything. Hell, it probably means he should run faster, of all the fighters he’s meant, the women tend to be the scarier ones. He struggles again, kicking out hard with lunge kicks, to try to get her to let go.

When that doesn't work, he bends his captured knee, getting close and tries to pistol whip her, but she's anticipating the strike. She dipped down and swiped his feet, knocking him down hard enough to leave him breathless. "Pru!!" Tim's voice echoes through the shipyard, surprising Jason as he arches against the ground, scrabbling to jerk away from the assassin and breathe air in. The assassin has a knife in hand, but is facing where the yell came from, momentarily distracted, and that's all Jason needs, he yanks a cartridge from a pouch on his leg and slugs her hard in the eye. The assassin cries out, but instead of pulling away, she surges towards Jason, sticking a needle in the arm he has still pressing against her eye as painfully as he can.

The effect is instantaneous, he can feel it working through his veins, slowing the world down, fear already gripping him tight. It's harder to move his limbs and it can't be longer than two seconds since she got him. He yanks the syringe out before she can depress the whole thing inta him. She ignores the loss of the syringe, instead yanking him into her and holding a knife to the side of his throat, just under his ear. Even though he knows with his position he could easily headbutt her, easily get to her weakspots, he can't move. Jason tries to punch, flail his arms, anything, and all he gets are twitching limbs, his body starts sagging so bad the assassin hefts him up tighter to her chest so he doesn't sink to his knees. There's words being passed back and forth, but he can't make them out. His heartrate soars, and he feels two seconds from a heart attack, and his vision is black and the venomous, radioactive color of the Pit, he can't make anything out, beyond the fact there's a rough fabric against him. He struggles as much as he can, knowing that by doing so, he is forcing the toxin faster into his bloodstream, but he can't not struggle, there's the flat of a blade pressed to his jugular. His heart drops to his feet as he remembers handing the helmet over to Damian.

Normally the delicate skin would be protected, the helmet connects to the suit he's got in such a way that his throat is always protected when he wears it. But not now, and the fact it's the flat and not the edge confirms his suspicion that this is someone who has held hostages before. Jason can feel himself slipping into the panic caused by the toxin and the Pit warring. It's not the normal Fear toxin strain, but it's too much with whatever else is in it, the paralyzing effect is affecting him worse than the Fear alone would have.

He skips and loses time, falling inside his head to angry voices, to death and blood and the color of the Pit. He can vaguely feel the assassin's chest vibrate when she speaks, he can't hear what she says, but knows its low and gravelly, and Tim's voice in response getting louder. “My life! You owe me a life Prudence! And I call it now. His life is mine.” It's warbled and hard to make out, the words certainly don't make sense, how would Replacment know an assassin, and more importantly why would she owe him a life.

Jason's brought a little closer to awareness by the dead silence that follows, the chest he's pulled against, stops breathing even, he can't feel it anymore at least. Jason's shoved away, before he can think anything else of it, and is landing hard on his side again does nothing for his focus. Time passes, he can measure it by the sound of his breathe and his heart, it's diluted, each breathe feeling like it takes five minutes, even though he knows that's not how it really is. Voices and sound again, but he can't pick them up, stuck on voices from the past, the dead coming back for him, he knows it’s whatever strain of Fear is in there, but that doesn't mean he can figure out what's going, on. His heart feels fit to burst, like it's going to pump right out of his chest. Just when he thinks he's going to explode; hands pull him back up. They're gentle and gloved, he's physically pulled closer to whoever has hands on him now. Jason struggles harder as he feels a second pair of hands join the first, poking and prodding. He only managing to weakly pat whoever has him. A voice cuts through the fog, gently shushing him, and the cadence is familiar, and Jason can feel his muscles relax in response.

Even though his heart still feels like it's boutta beat out his chest or give out, that voice in that tone means it's safe, a little more focus, and Jason can weakly make out Tim's form, Tim's lips are moving, but Jason can't make out what he is saying. Jason's brows furrow in concentration, but he still can't hear, and there's shadow figures coming for him in his peripheral, he jerks away from them and into Tim as they reach for him. Tim pulls him closer, and messes with something near his neck, immediately Jason's senses are assaulted by the scent of a calming Omega, a concerned one, but the sweet scent of an Omega calms him. Jason's muttering something, he can feel the breaths against Tim's neck and shoulder, can feel his lips moving, but has no idea what he's saying.

Whatever it is, it has Tim's scent - wait Tim? - strengthening, calming and warm. Jason's brain stutters, and he's stuck on the scent. Tim's a beta. Why does he smell like an Omega? The longer he is pressed to Tim, the clearer his head gets, he tries to move closer, but finds his body still only twitches.  
Whatever was in that syringe, Jason's grateful he didn't get the whole thing, in response to his attempt to move, Tim pulls him closer, he's moved around until he's in Tim's lap, face held tight to the gloriously calming scent of honey and cream, with an undertone of Jason's own gunpowder and pine scent. And it hits him like a freight train, as he's sitting useless in Tim's lap, just why Tim is emotionally stunted regularly, why sometimes Jason comes home to him passed out in Jason's bed. And the realization is so huge and out of left field, like a freight train, knocking the air out of his struggling lungs for the second time that night. Jason's convinced he's hallucinating it, and sticks it on a back burner, something to look inta when he ain't half outta his head. It's the last thought he has before he falls into a blissful blankness, darkness overtaking his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When he is fighting with Dick, Jason gets jabbed with a mixed concoction of a Fear toxin and a paralytic. The assassin holds Jason hostage as a distraction. Tim shows up and gets the assassin to release Jason, as Jason is pressed up against Tim, having collapsed because of the drug. He smells an Omegan scent coming off Tim.


	6. Strife at the Pier:Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's version of what happened down at the docks, it starts with his normal patrol, but when he hears something is off at the docks, he waits to make sure it all goes smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't really new material, but hey! The word count almost made it to 4k! I was going to post this last night, but my internet is wacky again. Thank you for the wonderful comments! The next chapter is going to be shorter, unfortunately, but I hope to update that one tomorrow.  
> Note: mostly spelling errors fixed, I did clarify a bit on the suit, that he didn't wear the full-face cowl that night

Tim is just about to turn in, to start the trek back to the Perch when he hears Jason's voice through the comms.

"Something feels off here, O. Tell them to come prepped and cautious-like, hoping I'm wrong." Jason's deep voice is quieter than usual, a little deeper and rougher, and Tim can hear the apprehension, there's a slight pause, then Jason continues.

"Don't know what, but feels like something's up." Tim decides that it's probably wise to cancel the original plan, which involved heading straight back to the Perc. He stays where he is at, best to hang out crouched on the corner of a bank and what to hear if anything else pops up. If they're already calling something feeling off, especially if it's Jason, then it's best to make sure everyone's okay once the actual fighting starts. But there's no point in him sitting here doing nothing, so he pulls out his phone and starts looking at the paperwork Tam had scanned in, making small notes in the margins. They had quickly discovered sharing documents through a Google drive was the best thing ever, like Tim is just as indebted to the founder as he is the maker of the Copy-Paste function. He munches on a protein bar and a bottle of water as he scrolls through, keeping an ear on O and Jason's transmissions. At Jason's incredulous question about the robbery at the clinic, Tim can't help but snort to himself. The kid who tried to steal the Batmobile's tires can't say anything against dumb robbers. Granted Jason was barely a teenager compared to the adult robbers, - plural, seriously though, what made them think it was a good idea - who tried to rob Leslie, so point to him, but Jay likes to talk about just how well he knew the streets, and if that's the case, Tim worries for what truly pushed him to take the Batmobile's tires. Once they're silent, and Tim's done with his protein bar, he pops two Ibuprofen pills and an anti-nausea. Sounds like he's going to be waiting a while, in the meantime, he can slowly start working his way there on the street level.

Tim's been wandering around looking for trouble for about thirty minutes, listening vaguely to Hood meeting up with Nightwing and Robin, them sighting a ship, but has only come across two muggings. Thankfully, both of the victims had been lone Alphas, and Tim's hormones hadn't flipped out again since last night. The suppressants finally doing their job again, so long as nothing major happened to disrupt them, he should make it through the rest of this nesting/heat phase without a problem. And now he had data for how to change them, hopefully make them a little better, because while they'd killed the arousal and lessened the instinct to nest with whoever he could find, Tim could do without the nausea and just how hard-hitting the cramps are this time. Better than last round though, and it's that thought that encourages him, he can do this, certainly doesn't need any help.

He's already halfway to the redbird when they get the confirmation it's their ship, and just how early it is, which can only mean trouble. Even though he has to go almost a mile out of his way for the bike, if something goes wrong, as it's ever likely to do, Tim will be able to get there so much faster on it than by grapple. Not to mention not having to worry about watching his grapple line, even if Damian hadn't tried to cut it recently doesn't mean others hadn't picked up on the weakness. Damian might have been the first, but he certainly wasn't the last, Ra's now has a hyper focus on Tim.

Tim thought Ra's focus was bad before, but now that he knows, Ra's has been sending regular ninjas out to keep tails on him, and they aren't the most friendly of characters. Not to mention by the end of this, Tim doesn't know if he will be in a condition to grapple, it's much easier to keep a bike level than it is to swing from building to building. All it takes is an injured arm to seriously hinder travel, and that, Tim had concluded after being on the receiving end of a dislocated shoulder one late, was why Bruce always had the Batmobile. Tim can't help but relax some as it comes into sight, he's got it booby trapped and covered with a cheap camo tarp. It looks just like any of the motorcycles parked in front of the motel. Tim takes it out on every patrol, just switching the storage location, hotels, motels, inns, and bars seemed to be the best places. Even if someone went poking through at it, Tim had McGyver-ed up some high voltage traps on it, on top of the alarm that would immediately send a notification to him. Tim had also toned down the red to a darker color, and removed the R stylus, no use in calling out for trouble.

It fired right up beneath him, purring at him, eager for a fast trip around town and Tim couldn't help but smile and pat its side in appreciation. He was just getting it out on the road when Jay;'s distorted voice inturrepted his thoughts, "We got company boys." Tim revved the engine and started for the docks, keeping an eye out for any other trouble on the way. They hadn't officially called out, and while sounds of the fight filled his ears, he wasn't too alarmed. At least until he heard Damian's strangled cry and heavy scuffling noises. Dick's voice following Damian's immediately,

"Little Wing, could use some help down here." They probably still had things well in hand but Tim's presence certainly wouldn't hurt. He is about ten minutes out, probably a little under, he shifted down to take a corner hard back out onto the main road to the docks, keeping a close ear out for any extra information coming through the comms. It had taken some time and finagling to make and replace comms that fit in his cowl that could also filter out the sound of the bike, but he found blueprints for what had been gun-range headphones. He's another mile down the road when he hears Jay's voice call out and even through the synths, Tim can hear some panic starting to filter through.

"Hood to Red Robin, come in. Gotta bit o' a big type situation at the docks."

Adrenaline shoots down his veins with an icy claw, and he shifts the Redbird into high gear, scrambling the lights to be green before he hits them and weaving dangerously through traffic. "Red here, show me en route, ETA five, what's up." Tim swerves hard, almost hitting a couple walking through the crosswalk and narrowly misses an oncoming car, he can make it in less than five, but that doesn't make the road stressful. He's been trained since a young age how to drive and how to drive well, but it doesn't always matter how good you are as a driver, but the people around you.

"Need a pickup for a little package." Tim grimaces, he'd rather take part in the fight, but if that's what Jason says than it's better to listen than try to debate before he can even get eyes-on what's happening. As he's speeding forward, he can still hear the ambient noise of Dick's fight, but Jason's conversation instructing Damian to stay where he is at, and the change from Jason's voice through the synths to his normal voice makes Tim think about possible Scarecrow interactions. Jason's either more worried about Damian due to whatever injury he has incurred, or has reason to believe a gas may be used soon, and neither of those is a good option. The bike really isn't designed to transport injured individuals, the vibrations are hard, even on such a smooth ride, can be absolute agony on broken or dislocated limbs, in which case, Tim hopes he can just drop Damian off at the Batmobile then join the fight. Bruce had implemented a lock-in ability in the Batmobile, allowing him to lock injured and unruly Robins. Just as he is pulling up, Nightwing in sight, Jason's voice filters through again.

"Got some sorta toxin here boys."

And there. Of course there's got to be a toxin. Dick's dry response of "fantastic" filters in and gives a dull pain, he misses when that tone gave a thrill of excitement. But a toxin coming into play is an extra stressor, not to mention the fact that Tim tries to stay as far away from those as possible. The majority of the toxins they work with would react with his suppressants. Exactly how, Tim doesn't know, just in the, it's best to avoid them way. But with Damian already down, Dick or Jason going down would not be good. Between the two of them, Tim would much rather have Jason knocked by something than Dick. If Nightwing gets hit, then he will have to help Jason get both Damian AND Dick to the Manor, and that's not something Tim's wanting to do. He leaps off the bike, not bothering with a kickstand, just leaning it against a nearby crate, the dock's always packed with them. Dick spots Tim's arrival and points over to his shoulder to another stack of crates and Tim dashes over. It'd make sense to stash Damian out of sight while still being able to keep an eye on him.

He makes it in, and yep, there's one angry looking Demon-child. He's got his arm curled protectively to his body and is hunched into the corner, body twisted to the only entrance but glaring out the hole between crates to glare heatedly at the fight. "Come on Robin," and boy does that still sting just a little, and Tim feels a sense of shame at it, it's been way too long for him to have any sort of reaction to the reminder that this kid replaced him, now owns what had been Tim's.

"Let's get you out of here." Tim tries to reach out to him, but thinks twice about it as Damian stands on his own, the angry glare changing gears to be directly focus on Tim.

"I don't need your help." Tim backs up a little, hands held up, to give Damian more room to walk out without having to get too close to Tim. Damian surges forward like a hurricane given a human form, and stalks huffily off, assumably in the direction of the stashed Batmobile. Tim stays close, within Damian's peripherals so as not to spook him, but keeps watch as they move away from the fight. Thankfully it's nearby, but just as Damian is getting into the passenger seat, Tim hears two shocked voices ring out, both from being so close in proximity to the fight, and the comms, he shuts the door harshly and takes off for the fight.

There's scuffling noises and they hear Dick yell in surpsie, and Jason's voice sounds angry and irritated when he growls "You again." And boy oh boy, is Tim glad that voice is not directed at him. That voice is not the one you wanted directed at you, he sounds full-on pissed. Tim's already back to the main brawl, and between lashing out and blocking what definitely looks like Scarecrow's goons, he can see Jason fighting a very familiar looking figure. Black League-looking clothing, bald head, and holy shit is that a scar across the throat, Tim breaks free from the fight in time to see Pru duck Jason's swipe and swipe his feet in the same smooth act. A flash of steel in the night makes Tim's heart stops. "Pru!!" The figure jerks towards him in surprise, knife held still. Jason takes full advantage and strikes her in the face. Tim breaks out in a run towards them, flicking his wrist to fully extend his bo, but it's too late, and Tim sees a syringe fall to the ground and shatter, liquid spilling out and soaking into the ground, droplets reflecting the light from the dock lights. Pru pulls Jason down to her, no longer worried about him, and it sends alarm bells and whistles blaring through Tim's brain. Whatever was in that vial, Pru trusts it to take down a pissed off Red Hood. Hood's barely struggling, limbs just kinda...twitching, even though there's a blade to his throat, and Tim. Tim straight up panics.

Words are spewing out of his face, even as he's death marching forward. He knows they’re the right ones to keep Jason alive, but they aren't registering until after he's said them, which will for sure bite him in the ass later. But that's a Future!Tim problem, Not Present!Tim's issue.  
“My life! You owe me a life Prudence. And I call it now. His life is mine!” Tim can hear the terror and possessiveness in that declaration, and can practically feel the confusion radiate in almost physical waves from everyone else. Which is not good because Dick is behind him somewhere and oh boy, Tim is NOT looking forward to the debrief on this. But he's got Pru's attention now, she's looking at him closer, pulling Jason's limp body closer, before just shoving him roughly off her and standing over his prone body. Everything has gone dead silent, even the background fighting has stopped to watch this showdown, but Tim's prepared now. Jason's her bargaining chip and she holds all the aces, but she does owe him a life, and the fact she no longer has a blade pressed to Jason's throat is promising. The tense stand-off is broken when Pru throws her head back and straight up cackles. Or tries to, anyway, her throat injuries didn't heal as well as Tim's did, and he winces at the rough sound, grateful he didn't have more lasting damage. “Boss-man!"

Pru is straight up smiling at him, looking quite pleased to see him, even though Tim's probably ruined or at least devastatingly mangled whatever contract she's currently working under. Unless she's picking stuff up in the area at Ra's beck and call. Tim kinda doubts that one, sure there's probably some truth to that theory, to be looked at later, but after the Council of Spiders, her faith and loyalty didn't seem to lie strictly with Ra's and the League.  
"Thought you was dead! last I saw you, you wasn’t looking too hot, bleeding all over the place an' all." There's a twinkle in her eye suggesting she knows that's not info he wants to have out, and at this point, Tim can feel Nightwing's approaching presence, he's always been good at sidling up inconspicuously.  
"Like the new suit." Pru makes a point of looking it up and down, noting the improvements, and winking at him once. Tim can feel Nightwing's presence stop and hover behind him now, can hear O's voice in his comm, asking him who she is and just how she knows Tim, but Tim's too focused on Jason and Pru. Damian's safe in the Batmobile, and he can feel Dick behind him. And Jason's down, Tim can see him breathe, and twitch every couple of seconds, but there's nothing else.  
"Make me one like that and I might be owing you." And with that, she backs off, hands up in a show of peace, once she's about five feet from Jason, she turns tail and runs, flipping off and disappearing into the night in ways only those with the League can do, probably to save what little bit of shipment she can.

Tim and Dick surge to Jason's fallen form, Dick and O still shooting off rapid questions about Pru, but Tim ignores them. He feels like shit, he didn't want to be out and about in the first place, Damian's hurt, and Jason clearly just got tagged by some new toxin. Paralytics aren't common in Gotham, but they are in the League. They straighten him up, putting him in a recovery position on his side. Nightwing is talking to Jason and trying to check his pupil reaction while Tim's reaching for his wrist and checking a pulse. He finds it, and it's absolutely racing, skipping some beats, Tim's brow furrows in concern.  
"I think he got tagged by a mixed paralytic and maybe some sort of Fear toxin Nightwing, his heart is racing." Nightwing stops trying to rouse Jason to look worriedly at Tim, but Tim's already pulling empty blood vials and shoving Jason's stupidly stiff leather jacket sleeve up.  
"Who the fuck is Pru, Tim, and how does she know you." Dick's voice is hard and angry. Tim's got the needle pressed to Jason's arm, a finger over the vein to make it pop, to insert it, "Did she come after us because of you? I mean, what's going on!" Dick's voice is rising, and so is Tim's heart rate.

His hands starting to shake as he switches the first full vial for a second one. "An old associate, doesn't matter. We ended on good terms. " Tim can't help but stop to glare at Dick's accusing expression.  
"It clearly couldn't have been horrible terms, considering she owed me a life." There's more bite in his tone than there normally would be, but Tim's done. His body's been done for awhile now, and he just wants to go home. He shoves the one blood vial at Dick and pockets the other, and pulls Jason's form up to lean against his chest as Dick fumbles the vial in surprise.  
"Could you get that checked out? I'll run my own tests, but it's probably best if he" a flick of his eyes down to Jason, "doesn't wake up surrounded by a bunch of irritated Alphas, and besides, Robin needs you right now." With those final words, Tim pulls Jason's face closer to his neck, Jason's started twitching harder, and a thumb over his pulsepoint tells Tim his heart is still beating way too fast. Dick looks ready to argue, but O cuts in, "Red's got a point Boy Wonder, if Hood wakes up confused and on fear, when that paralytic wears off, the last thing we want is to frighten him off by a bad reaction to his. He's still settling in to working with us." Dick still looks pissed, but edges of concern are working over it, "You think you'll be ok Red?" But Tim brushes him off, "Get back to your Robin, when I left he looked two seconds from self-destructing the Batmobile in hopes of getting out, I've got Hood, I've had him for awhile now, and I think the shipment's escaping" And nope, that's not a little bit of resentment or pride in there. Nope, none whatsoever in the fact that Tim is the one who is closest to Jason, that Tim is still the first person Jason goes to for help, and in the face of that, Dick can't do anything else, but stand up and leave, telling Tim to call if he needs help, seriously. But Tim knows it's all just lip-service, and as he watches Dick's form head back to the Batmobile, talking rapidly to O about getting someone on scene to apprehend whatever was in the shipment. With no more worries about Dick, and seeing no one else in the immediate area, the goons having all fled with Pru, Tim focuses more on Jason.

He tries patting Jason's face to get his attention, saying his name, but no reaction. He counts Jay's pulse and it's still way too high, he starts crooning and shushing him softly. If he's on Fear, and that's certainly what his heart rate and flighty, unfocused eyes suggest, then Tim needs a way to calm him down enough to get him onto the back of the bike. He has straps and footholds designed just for lugging people around, but Jay's still a big guy, and when that paralytic wears off, it's not going to be pretty if Tim's not prepared. He bites his lip in contemplation, he can't give Jason something else, they don't really know what was in the syringe, and there's nothing else he can think of, except. . . another quick glance around, they're kind of off to the side, and the cops know well enough by now to know it's best to just leave Hood alone, that it should be okay. Tim's just going to have to make this quick. O's still in his ear, sounds like the cops are going to be another twenty minutes-ish, they're caught up in something else downtown. Mind made up, Tim reaches up and peels off the protective film of the scent blocker, grateful he hadn't worn the full-face cowl tonight like he'd planned to, his neck is easily exposed by pulling the edge of the suit down just a littl. With the amount he's sweat tonight, and how far along he is in what would have been a heat, Jason will be able to smell his calming Omega scent. And while, that's a big risk, with how large the syringe was, and the fact that Jason literally looks out of his mind, if Jason tries to confront him over it, Tim can deny it. Say with everything else that had been happening, Jason must have just imagined it, throw in there a joke about Jason only having Alpha friends and it'll be fine. As soon as the film is off, Tim's pulling Jason's face closer, it'll also help block it from going far, kind of like putting a lid over a pot on the stove. He's still shushing and crooning softly to him, telling Jason where he's at, and that he's safe, his pulse immediately starts slowing, and the twitching settles. Tim can't sit here long, a glance at his watch says he can probably sit here another five minutes before he needs to pack up. The cops might not be hostile to them, but they seem to know that Hood and Red Robin are on the outs with the Bats.

He rocks Jason a little as he waits, talking softly about any calming thing he can think of, until time's up, Tim can hear the sirens coming. Jason's seeming a lot more with it, and while he's not responding verbally, when Tim pulls him up, he manages to lock his knees, and shuffle along. Tim smears the film back over the scent blocker, just a short trip home, and it'll all be fine. It becomes a mantra on the way to the bike. Jason's heavy ok, he's got at least four inches on him and is built like a brick house, compared to Tim's tiny, lean frame. They make it without incident to the bike, and Tim explains the footholds and tells Jason to hold on tight, that they're going to a safe house. Jason's still not talking, but he gets a nod in acknowledgement, and that's enough for Tim. He pulls away slowly, and heads to Jason's safe house, it'll be more comfortable for Jason to wake up to.


	7. Strife over brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick knows he's not the best brother, that he failed Tim and Jason both in different ways. That by snapping at Tim the way he had tonight, he had ruined any progress he might have made in the recent past. But he's trying.  
> Warnings: V sad Dick, references to suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first off, I know this isn't the chapter you guys were wanting, but Dick wouldn't get out of my head. I feel his pain, I'm an older sibling, and quite often doing the best you can isn't enough. Sometimes things get lost in the shuffle, or in translation and you don't realize or don't have the energy to deal with it. This story isn't razing Dick or Damian, yes they make mistakes, but everyone does. They live a very stressful life, and while the mistakes they made were huge, they learn from them and try harder, sometimes it just takes awhile for the full impact of those mistakes to come to life.  
> Secondly, I'm not sure when the next update will be, I've got a big test on Friday, and a big test next week. Neither course knows how they will be giving us the tests, and both clases are only three test classes. I will try to write something, but I just wanted to warn you guys now it might be a week or so before I really get anything else done, and I'm sorry, but life is stressful right now, after the tests it will be ok again.  
> Again, I apologize for this chapter, and will look it over for mistakes in the morning, it's after 1 AM here.

When Jason came in, Dick had already stormed off in a huff, away from the manor. And okay yeah, not sure what else he should have expected from Bruce, the man can't stop himself when he sees an almost carbon copy form of himself struggling, at least so it seems. Jason - who was not afraid of the Bat, something most everyone, including kids was - and honest-to-god hijacking the tires and defending that action against Bruce could have only ended one way. But Dick didn't see it quite like that then, then it was shoving a taser to a barely scabbed over wound.

Because while Dick wanted his freedom from Bruce and his suffocating ways, he always expected he could come home and Bruce would be all his. Dick had never had to share a human before, and that was the first time he had to share. He came home and found someone in the suit, that HE named, in loving memory of his tragically deceased parents, and it was too much. His biological parents had been ripped away from him, and now someone else had not only yanked the only real thing he had in memory of them - God he missed them, but he can't remember, he can't remember what they looked like, or how their hands felt, or even her voice when she called him her little robin - and had also yanked Bruce's time and attention. Dick had just wanted some space, and instead he came home to the whole meaning to his life outside the Titans, replaced, a new scent already covering the faint remnants of his own scent. All in such a short time span, Dick hadn't been gone from home that long.

As time passed, things didn't get much better, B and Dick still argued, and Dick had quite often felt that anger and resentment at Bruce turned towards Jason. It wasn't until shortly before Jason died that they get along. And it's one of Dick's greatest regrets. Not only was he not there for Jason while he was alive, but not even for his death. Dick was still off-planet when Jason's funeral was held. Granted Jason came back, but he came back twisted, and Dick is loath to admit it, but that anger Jason turned and pointed not only at Bruce and Dick, but focused on Tim. . . Dick saw some of himself in that, in the way he had treated Jason when he first came into the Manor. And man, that must have been so rough for Jason. Not something Dick likes to think about, but it's there and something to be fixed. After Jason's death, Dick threw himself as hard as he could into his brotherly duties, in a sad sort of way, in repentance.

If only he had shown he supported and loved Jason, maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to chase after his only surviving biological parent, maybe not paraded his irritated Alpha scent, maybe not made the new kid so uncomfortable. Dick knew then that Jason had most likely come from an abusive household, would probably be scared of all of the angry Alpha pheromones, but he hadn't cared at the time.

But Dick just can't do right by him, not even after his death. Because Jason is alive now. And it isn't Dick who is close to him, who brought him home to heal, or who Jason goes to with hurts or worries. No, he's failed Jason so badly not even after death is he someone Jason likes to come to. At least Jason has Tim. And wow, speaking of one of Dick's other greatest failings, there's Tim. Tim and Jason. Dick started out solid with Tim, but it fell apart. Shattered and burned when he had turned his back for a minute. Dick knew Tim wasn't at a great place after Bruce. Who would be? Certainly not Dick. One of the darkest times of his life, was that time period. When Bruce was gone, the only surviving Robins fighting for the Cowl and its many burdens, for the new robin who wasn't someone who helped Batman, but someone who had to be helped because he would have gone out otherwise. Dick didn't do well, he knows it. Not something he likes to admit, but he completely neglected Tim during that time.

Looking back, Dick is grateful the only thing Tim did do, was disappear to search for Bruce, and not come up with a more permanent solution to all the pain in his life. Once Bruce was back and healing, once Dick got to let many of the stresses and problems of Bruce Wayne and some of the Batman down, he realized just how it came across to Tim. And considering just how many losses he had, just how lucky Dick didn't lose him the same way he lost Jason. To himself, or to Ra's when he kicked him out the window. Dick tried, he did the best he could, and while it sounds like he's shoving responsibility for what happened with Tim off, he really isn't. Dick was barely afloat himself, another parent figure dead, a Robin who killed, and a always steady Robin who was almost the same age Dick was when he gave up Robin. Yes, Dick knows he messed up. He knows those big mistakes, they don't just go away, but handling them, fixing them so he doesn't make them again? That's hard, but not as hard as repairing the damage done.

Perfect example of Dick's fallings? Tonight. Two of his three brothers went down, and the other wouldn’t call him even if he did. Damian had his arm broken. Injuries to the current Robin are rare, and happen usually in circumstances like these. Where Dick is trying to reach out, but not push away. Got distracted by hearing fighting on Hood's end, on trying to locate him, and the crowbar that should have hit him, Damian took. Doing what they do, the occasional broken bone or dislocation is not uncommon, but Dick's negligence caused this injury. He could feel the question in Damian's body language, the concern for his Batman. Because Dick doesn't get distracted, as much as he flips around and yammers at people, he doesn't truly get distracted. The jig was up then, Dick more concerned about Damian than whatever shipment came in. Calling Jason down not only helped in the fight, and get Damian to safety - Jason was one of the only people besides Bruce who Damian didn't really argue with - and it also put him safely in Dick's sight.

And then Jason calls in Tim. The other lost brother. And he responds. Dick's heart soared to hear his little brother's voice again, to hear him alive and well enough to be on patrol, to hear him say he was on his way, just like old times. And just when it started looking up, when all the robins were working together, Jason was grabbed. That's not a concern Dick's thought he should have since Jason came back, Jason's far bulkier than Dick is, and just a smidgeon taller. But grabbed he was, snatched right out of Dick's reach. And to make it worse, nothing Dick did was helpful, he didn't get to help save him, that was Tim, and he didn't get to comfort him, or check him over for injuries, that was also Tim. The two brothers he's failed now work together to block him out of their personal lives. It had been concern and fear that had driven the accusing harsh tone with Tim, asking him questions about the assassin, Pru, and just how he knew her. He knew, once Tim had pulled Jason from him, that it had been the wrong action, just how bad it would have come across to Tim. That by pushing for information Tim clearly didn't want him to have, he was only making it worse. But Dick's concerned about him. He knows it's not a good excuse, that he gets it from Bruce and his brand of worrying doesn't make it okay. But it hurts to look back at, every time Dick tries to get closer, to be a good big brother, he takes one step forward, and is dropped down a hole.

Dick's not stupid, Tim had to pair up with some questionable people, powerful people while looking for Bruce, but the amount of times assassins and Ra's seem to pop up, with hidden information, is sending alarm bells and whistles blaring through his head. Pru's mention of some wretchedly bloody injury didn't escape his notice, the genuine surprise on her face at being confronted by Tim was not faked. Tim played with fire, it appears still is, and there's nothing Dick can do about it. By the time they have Jason, have looked him over, Dick knows he's done enough damage for tonight. That nothing he can say or do will make Tim let Dick help him. Tim's comment about Damian and the shipment were right, but the real pain was in the twist of Tim's words. He wasn't lying when he said he had Jason. He'd certainly done a much better job than Dick had.

So Dick had left them, a last plea for Tim to call him if he was needed, knowing it fell on deaf ears, but hopeful nonetheless. Dick started the analysis on the blood immediately after getting Damian to Alfred's care, hoping that it was just a fast-acting paralytic, that it wasn't anything worse that could further damage his brothers. He had checked on Damian while waiting on the results, listened in carefully to Alfred's kind but stern after-care and vigilante time frame. Not allowed to patrol for at least 4 weeks, bone breaks, especially when young, are to be properly taken care of, and Damian is small and young enough Alfred can enforce it. Hell, Dick will push for closer to six weeks. He's had enough brothers get hurt.

By the time the results are back on the blood, Damian's asleep, Bruce took him up to bed once Alfred was done. Carried him just like he'd carried Dick so many years before. He checks the blood results, and thankfully, it is just a paralytic with some strain of Fear mixed in. Not enough for Dick to really be concerned, it's the paralytic that'd be a problem for Jason. But they'll be okay, they can take care of themselves, Dick tells himself. It's not until Bruce is standing silently in front of him that Dick realizes he phased out, thinking of happier memories with his siblings, and how to fix them now. Bruce smiles sadly at him, "Come on chum, time for bed." In that soft, caring voice, the one that used to read bedtime stories to him all the time. And he means to get up, to stop leaning against the counter of chemicals and tests, to tell him good night and head to bed. But instead, when he opens his mouth good night isn't what spills out, "I messed up Dad." And oh shit, there's tears welling in his eyes, but it's okay, because the words aren't even fully out of his mouth, when Bruce pulls him down into a hug. Even though Dick's bigger than him, somehow Bruce's hugs still engulf him. He's got his face hidden in the vee between his shoulder and neck, tucked tightly as he tries to stop his eyes from running, his steady, protective scent, leather and soap pulling him in more. "It happens Dick, it's life." Dick opens his mouth, to argue to tell Bruce just what he's talking about, when Bruce squeezes him tighter to him. "We'll get them back kiddo, I promise." And it's the determined edge under the calming one, that really makes Dick sink in, lean heavy into Bruce's support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your continued support! Your comments really keep me going!


	8. Racing Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Jason start the trek to a safe house, Tim struggles with how much taller Jason is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there's any warnings for this chapter. Good news is its over 3k! I have the next 4-5 chapters outlined, it's just a matter of having the time to write them. Thank you for the many sweet comments on the last chapter! and as always, please leave a comment or review to let me know what you guys think. xD

Getting Jason strapped in was harder than Tim thought it would be. In hindsight, he should have anticipated just how hard it would be to both support Jason's torso and guide his feet into the straps. Getting Jason on the bike had been a challenge in of itself, and Tim would definitely take notes on this and look at altering the Redbird's design.

Jason hadn't gotten anymore lucid on the walk over to the bike, he was barely on his own feet and shuffling. Tim had an arm looped behind Hood's back and gripping the far shoulder of the jacket, bunched in his hands, while the other hand was gripping just under hoods arm, pushing up against Jason's chest to keep him more up than not. And damn did being short suck. It sucked anyway, but when trying to haul someone 4-6 inches taller and twenty-thirty pounds heavier, it did even more.

Jason stumbled and lurched forward, unable to correct his own balance, Tim had to shove himself into Jason's chest to keep him from face-planting. Jason's forward momentum hadn't stopped and almost bowled Tim over. "Easy, easy now Hood, almost there." Tim soothed, and shifts his hands back once Jason is steady again.

They start laboriously forward again, the bike is just a few feet away, and oh man, Tim's luck he left it against a crate. A quick glance at Jason's face, it still looks blank, the eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Tim bites his lip in consideration, before trying to prop Jason against the crate. Jason leans heavily against it. Tim stays close, and pulls away slowly, his hands staying close to Jason in case he starts to fall. Jason's swaying dangerously, and blinking confusedly, so Tim reaches out to him. The movement must startle him, because Jason jerks hard away, his head clangs against the metal crate. "Just me Hood, it’s alright. Just gonna grab the bike." Tim cautiously reaches for Jason again, and this time Jason stays still, watching him closely, but allows Tim to grab his outside hand, to hold onto the edge of the crate, something for Hood to use to help him stay balanced.

"Just going to stand the bike up, help you get in and strapped on. I don't want your heavy ass making us fall on the road now, right?" Jason hadn't lost the laser focus on Tim, and after a second, slowly nods his head in acceptance. Tim pulls the bike up as close to Jason as he can. It's between him and Jason, his plan is to get Jason to use him and the crate to balance and get a leg over the bike.

On the first try, Jason's leg doesn't make it over, and instead it kicks the side of the bike and it falls against Tim. "It's alright Hood, try again." This time, Tim has one hand steadying the bike, Jason's hand on his shoulder, and a hand guiding Jason's leg over. Once on the bike, Jason slumps down on it roughly, making it and Tim rock. "Awesome man! Knew you had it in you," Tim says cheerily, as he starts working on the straps. One on each foot, make sure the exhaust pipe won't burn him, slides a spare helmet on, and carefully slides on in front of Jason. One last strap connects Jason's chest to Tim's back. Things will go sideways in an exponential function if Jason panics, the straps were designed for an unconscious or severely injured passenger, not a drugged one.  
The helmet is one of Tim's own design, it's got a comm link in it so they can talk and hear each other without shouting. "Just a short trip Hood, heading to yours on Tenth and Baker, closer than any of mine. Just hang on, short trip, man." He feels Jason's head nod where it's pressed against his back, so he kickstarts the bike and they take off cautiously.

The trip goes smoothly, all things considered. Hood's quieter back there than Tim's comfortable with, he should be snarking about how Tim's driving so slow they'll be dead of old age before they get halfway to the safe house. Jason will be more comfortable in one of his places than Tim's. Tim is the same way. Even though they crash at each other's places and tend each other's major wounds, it's completely different than being drugged. Something that surprisingly hasn't happened yet. So this is a first, and if as soon as Hood is able to, he tells Tim to get out, than Tim can leave. Tim's also a little hopeful that seeing his own place will help Jason relax some. The Fear toxin doesn't seem potent, but any Fear is too much, and anything they can do to lessen it is for the best.

Tim isn't too sure how the Pit and its effects work, the possibility of Fear toxin or the paralytic making it worse is pretty high. While Tim had been working with Ra's he had kept an ear to the ground about the Pit, hoping to learn anything to help Jay recover. What he had learned is that it never fully went away, that some things helped, and that it could be aggravated, causing the affected to violently lash out. And man, that certainly made a lot sense, Jason had come back spitting mad, but Tim could practically linearly graph the downward slope of the rage it caused. Whether that was due to Jason learning how to work around it, or maybe it fading? Either way Tim was interested, he was never one to pass up an opportunity to learn, especially when it comes to the League, his current main enemy.

Tim pulls smoothly into the parking garage, and looks for another wall to park by, Jason didn't seem anymore cognizant than when they had left, surprise, it's been, a quick glance at the clock display in the helmet, fifteen minutes. Certainly not long enough for much of anything to wear off, in fact, the Fear probably still hasn't hit its peak yet. "Made it here, you ready?" Tim asks his passenger as he starts unbuckling the chest strap. Jason, who has made no move to stop leaning against Tim, grunts in response and starts pulling away from Tim. Tim's back muscles are starting to lock up, having supported Jason's limp form the whole ride, and protest as he straightens up and slides off the bike. He steps on the lever, which releases the buckled end of the foot straps, an ingenious addition based on the straps on diving fins. The fins allow the user to tighten or loosen in increments by adjusting a strap, but can be unbuckled or buckled for ease and quick release.

They use almost the same process getting Jason off as at the docks, except this time Tim and the wall are on the same side. Once Jason's off the bike, Tim leans him against the wall to quickly pop the kickstand on the bike. Next step, the helmets, he slides his off with ease, watching Jason to see if he needs help. Jason's fingers fumble with the buckle slide, and after a second, Tim reaches halfway to him, in silent offer to do it for him. In response to his questing hands, Jason tilts his head to give Tim better access, and Tim undoes it gently but efficiently.

The helmets go in the saddle bags, the tarp comes out and over the bike. Throughout the process, Jason had managed to stay against the wall, not needing Tim's support this time. He still looks unbalanced, and is swaying back and forth slightly, but not enough Tim feels the need to steady him. Bike taken care of, Tim reaches for Jason again, Jason roughly shrugs him off and stalks uneasily towards the stair. Tim stays close, if Hood doesn't want his help that's fine, and a good indicator the paralytic was just fast-acting and is already working through his system, but Tim stays close anyway, just in case he stumbles. One last glance back at the bike as he clicks the fob to make sure it locks, and up the stairs they trek.

Jason barely gets five steps up when he pauses, and much to Tim's alarm, starts to list backwards. Tim snatches onto the sleeve of the leather jacket and pulls forward, they're held in an awkward limbo for a second, Jason's panicked eyes finding Tim's. He grabs hard for the handrail. They sit in silence for a few seconds, Jason catching his breath, and Tim trying to remember the easiest way up to Jason's apartment. It's on the fifth story and there's no way they're going to be able to climb the whole thing. There's gotta be an elevator somewhere. Tim's still running his mental map, trying to remember the easiest way to the elevator, and if it even worked, when they start the laborious climb again.

The climb up is unsteady, and it's like trying to haul a drunken man up. They've almost tipped backwards no less than three times, and have stopped twice more before making it to the first floor, the actual beginnings of the apartment building. Tim can feel Jason's sigh of relief as they step out of the musty, echoing, concrete stairway and into the musty building. Jason takes the lead, surprising Tim with how quickly he starts shuffling.

Two left turns and a long ominous hallway later, they come across the glorious elevator. Tim feels Jason tense up as the doors open, and has to coax him into the small elevator with a hand on his arm. It makes Tim feel small and squished, so he can only imagine what it's doing for Jason's claustrophobia. Jason not only has returned a strong grip on Tim's forearm, but holds sharp, focused eye contact with him, even though Tim breaks it frequently to make sure it doesn't feel like a stare-down. The one-minded focus is unnerving, but a good show of just how out of it Jason still is, tremors still wrack his body and although he's maintaining eye contact, that is more likely Robin-coping skills for Fear. Find one thing you can tell is real, something you can feel, and don't lose sight of it. The elevator jolts and jars, making creaking and squeaking noises as it slowly ascends.

The trembling is getting worse, it was just a light tremor, just enough for Tim to feel when they first got on, but now Tim can see it shake. Jason's breathing is starting to pick up, his eyes starting to get wide as panic starts to flood his system. Tim starts crooning softly at him again. "Almost there," The glowing amber elevator lights above the steel doors change to a three, "just another minute Hood, almost there." Tim fervently hopes they make it out before Jason starts freaking out more, but even with Tim's soft voice, he still isn't calming down. The light changes to a four, and Hood is shaking like a newborn colt on stilts. The light changes to a five and shudders to a stop, at the jarring motion, Hood stumbles and Tim struggles to support him. If Jason goes down there's going to be a real struggle to get him up and keep the elevator open. The door's blessedly open with a demonic sounding hiss, and stepping out of the elevator into the hallway is like stepping into the sun after days in the Cave.

They both take a deep breathe in, the stale, old-cigarette smell has never smelled so good, Tim thinks. "Little further Hood, get you out of those and into something more comfortable, huh?" Tim furtively glances around as they pull to a stop at Jason's door. He's thankful no one's there to see them, they must make such a strange sight. Hood's got an arm over Tim's shoulder, Tim has an arm around his waist to balance him, as he fumbles for the right key. They stagger in, Tim almost tips over at Jason's sudden forward lurching. He leaves Tim behind to stumble immediately into the bed, he plops down on it and just falls on his back, closing his eyes.

This shoebox-apartment is one of Hood's smallest, it opens straight into the bedroom, one bathroom, and the smallest kitchen to ever be, not even a separate room, just off in the far right corner. A sink, miniature fridge, and a sad-looking microwave with a single cabinet acting as pantry. As much as Tim wants to do the same as Jason, to lay down and just sleep, he can't. At the very least he needs to run a basic blood test on the chemicals. Jason's fine to catch his breath there while Tim digs around in the dimly lit bathroom, looking for said chemistry kit. He finds it under the sink, along with the First Aid kit. He grabs that out too just in case. He brings them both out to the main area.

Jason shoots his head up at Tim's re-entrance, so he holds up the kits for Jason to see. Jason squints at him for a second, before laying back down, and Welp, looks like Tim’s passed inspection, Tim thinks sardonically. He sets the kit up on top of the fridge, uses the little dropper. It's going to take a few minutes for the results to be conclusive. In the meantime, they can get comfortable.

With that thought in mind, Tim sits on the edge near Jason, and starts taking off the domino and boots. Exhaustion settles deep, it feels like it runs through his muscle and sinew, past his bones and into his very soul. Now only in the thin undersuit, having stripped the rest of it off, he stacked it neatly by the door before he starts on trying to get Jason up again. There's nothing worse than waking up after being hit with some in costume, it freaks the senses out, and you feel so dirty. And even more importantly, it should help wash any lingering Omega scent off.

"Hey Jase." A quiet grunt and an eye slits open. "Up for a shower?" A huge sigh and some sort of deep grumble that shoots through Tim's veins, warming them. Jason sits up, reaching for Tim's arm to steady him when he gets up halfway and nearly collapses back. "Up we go." Tim grunts in exertion, but they finally manage to get him on his feet. Tim hangs on for a moment afterword, to make sure Jason is steady on his feet. Jason pushes off of him, and lumbers off towards the bathroom. While under the sink, Tim had found the spare set of clothes, Jason should be good to go.

Meaning Tim can have a short breather. He takes a few minutes to catch his breath and settle his nerves. The timer for the blood test clicks, it used to be a loud ding, but after that one time it sent Dick up to the rafters, they changed it to a much quieter sound. Tim checks it carefully, and yep, paralytic and a really mild mix of some old Fear toxin. He can't help the sigh in relief, not going to have to worry about any long-lasting effects or delayed reactions. Tim clicks the comm back in his ear to call the Cave and reassure them there was no need to try to hunt them down. Hood would just need to sleep it off, when a lightbulb lit up over his head. He could almost see it like in one of those cartoons, and oh boy, did Tim need some sleep if that's what he's thinking about.

Back to the lightbulb moment though, he doesn't have to contact the Cave, just someone IN the Bats. And bingo. Alfred. Amazing, great job, ten points to Tim's brain. He digs around the nightstand by the bed, looking for a burner phone, and wow, look! A flip phone, Jason was really shooting for old school with this one. Tim's fingers find the numbers without conscious thought, the familiar dial tone a soothing lullaby. Almost as soothing as Alfred's voice. "Wayne Residence, how may I be of assistance?" And Tim's luck is in tonight! It's Alfred's soothing voice, sounding so close and firm Tim can almost smell his calming, always-steady, scent. He smells of spices and herbs, of baking bread and high-end cigars. Though why that last one no one could figure, as Alfred claims to not have smoked in "nigh on thirty years, young Master Tim."

"Hey Alfred, it's Tim." Tim can hear Alfred's acknowledgement noise, too low and polite to really be given a name. "Jason and I made it to a safehouse, blood test says mild paralytic and a small amount of old Fear toxin. Figured you'd do more with the knowledge than the rest would, talk to you later." Click. Tim loves Alfred, but if he lets the man get a word in edgewise, he's too polite to interrupt unless he thinks the person on the other end of the line is panicking or hurt and that's something Tim's not afraid to abuse. Because if he heard Alfred out, he would end up visiting the Manor. No two ways about it, if Alfred wants something, he gets it one way or another. And Tim's not ready for that. Not ready to fully forgive Dick, to be faced with Damian's harsh words, and Bruce's questioning gaze. To be surrounded by a bunch of detectives.

A shudder rips through him, and he's pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the shower being turned off. Tim didn't bring any other clothes, and he curses under his breath at the thought of sleeping in his thermals, but he doesn't want to leave Jason to fend for himself quite yet, if something goes wrong, if there's a delayed response or something, Tim needs to be here. And besides that, as tired as he is, just imagining the trip home makes him feel more exhausted. The bathroom door disrupts Tim's thoughts, Jason walks through a wall of steam, ignoring Tim entirely, and literally falls face first on the bed.

Tim has to muffle a snort, the Big, Bad Hood, passed out cold, on top of the covers, not even attempting to get under them. He peers at him in the dark, the furrows and lines of tension on Jason's young face, the red and white roots are just starting to peak through the thick black dye Jason uses. He catches himself staring at the tiny freckles spattering Jason's nose and high cheekbones, and forces himself towards the shower. He closes the door behind him and tries to lock it, only to find the door doesn't even latch, the doorknob broken. This could be a problem, Tim bites his lip in thought, he can't sleep in the same room as Jason without a scent blocker, but he's already worn this one for awhile. This one is already so old it needs to be replaced, so he peels it off and throws it away in the little plastic trash can by the toilet. He can just wear the Tim Drake one and take off early in the morning.

Tomorrow is Saturday and he doesn't have to be in the office. Still paperwork Tam wants him to do, but nothing he has to go into the office for, he can just let the skin air out all day tomorrow. Plan set, Tim turns on the water, and can't help but be irritated when it doesn't warm up, even after a few minutes. Only to face palm as he recalls Jason just got out, and in this shitty complex, the hot water runs out fast. So Tim takes the fastest, shower possible, his teeth start chattering before he's even fully in the cold stream. He tries not to think about how he's borrowing Jason's shampoo, and how he's going to smell like him, even as he feels his inner Omega coo in appreciation.

He rinses and reaches for a towel, and misses. There is no towel. Tim is an idiot. Jason used the towel. There weren't any under the sink, and no towels in sight. He's shivering so hard he's shaking as he gets dressed, the thermals now damp certainly not helping. He scrubs his hands roughly through his hair, trying to get as much of the water out as possible, and slaps the scent blocker on so he can dig out some spare blankets or shit somewhere. This is Jason, there's got to be something. The closet next to the bathroom is jackpot. There's not only blankets, but towels. It's too late for the towels, obviously, but the blankets are helpful. He pulls two out and lays down on the floor beside the bed. The last thing he does before falling asleep, is set an early alarm on his wristwatch. It will vibrate rather than chime to wake him up, his secret weapon to waking up without disturbing Jason. He falls blissfully asleep, the last trudges of the false-heat pulling him down quickly into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to have the next chapter go up tomorrow, but my updating scheduling won't be as consistent as it was during Spring Break. The transition to online coursework has been rough. I hope y'all are doing well!


	9. Game of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's POV from the docks to the apartment, and he has some nightmares. Luckily for him, Tim is there to help him. Unluckily for Tim, he is there to help Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blood, violence, nightmares, that sort of thing, abound in this chapter. I almost didn't get this up tonight and I have to say, I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. I've got a big homework assignment due Wednesday, so I might not update again until later on Thursday. Also, hey! I'm on Tumblr! Come follow me at @homeforthemissingandthelost, I've got some fic recs on there for the meantime.  
> Let me know what you guys thinks and what you like!  
> Note: I didn't change much, just the scent thing, and a few spelling errors.   
> I absolutely headcannon Jason is a natural redhead, and that he started dyeing his hair when he was adopted by Bruce, hoping that if they at least looked similar eventually people would forget how he came to be a Wayne, that he wasn't a biological child. Also, the Pit had some weird effects, one of them being fantastic night vision. Jason didn't know until someone pointed it out, but it's because his eyes slightly glow in the dark.

The trip to the safehouse is blurry and unfocused. Jason can feel the pressure of the wind, the heat of Tim's back against his front, a voice in his ear. He's strapped down, and he doesn't like it. His heart is pounding in his ears and doing something weird to his vision. It feels like everything is spinning, but he isn't moving. His muscles feel like they've solidified, even as his blood burns in his veins like magma. The vibrations of a bike beneath him are grounding. Jason knows if he struggles it will cause an accident, but that doesn't settle the trapped feeling in his chest. 

He loses time between blinks. Leaving the docks. Blink. Stopped at a light. Blink. Pulling into a garage. Blink. Getting off the bike. Blink he's almost falling down a set of stairs, and Tim is supporting the majority of his body weight. Blink. They're exiting the stairs, tension he hadn't even realized was there slips off his shoulders, released with a deep breath of cheap apartment smells. Old cigarettes, must, and old carpet. No more stairwells. The echo was making the pounding worse. His feet move without his permission. Blink and he's in an elevator, trying not to lose his shit. And Red must know it because he's making soothing noises at him. 

And oh shit, wait. Didn't he smell like Omega?   
A deep breath in and Jason can smell Tim. His scent is a little stronger than it should be, considering he's still got a scent blocker on. The thought flits away again in a wave of panic at a weird grating sound. And Jason takes a deep breath, tries to hold it, and let it out. Counting his breaths, it feels like his insides are trying to claw to be on his outsides. It's dark. 

And there's flashes. 

Dirt in his mouth. 

Sharp pain in his fingers. 

Unrivaled panic. 

Then the world stops, the doors open. He's not in a casket. Not in a casket. He can breathe. It's just a shitty apartment. 

Deep breath, you idiot. 

Come on lungs, do your job. Almost there. 

By the time they get inside the apartment, Jason's convinced the only thing his body is capable of is breathing, and he just wants to sleep. Maybe he'll be lucky and manage to sleep this off, not actually have to deal with any consequences. He doesn't stop to make sure the door closes Tim's here and will take care of it. 

He just falls heavily on the bed. Blissful darkness, whispers in his ear. It'll all be better in the morning. Until he's poked and prodded, a presence hovering over him and Red's voice saying something about a shower. And yeah, probably a good idea. Red has to help him up. 

His limbs and muscles still feel like they're freezing up at the joints, hard to move and awkward, but he makes it to the shower. Cranks the heat as much as possible in the hopes of loosening his joints, even though he knows it's futile. 

He was drugged. He lathers the injection site up twice and rinses thoroughly, also doing a rush job on his hair before stepping out. All he wants to do is sleep. He steps out of the bathroom, and oh good, Tim's still here, maybe they'll have a conversation about...something... in the morning. It was something important but it’s slipping his mind right now. He flops down on the bed facedown, wriggles until at least a corner of the blanket is on top of him and passes the fuck out. Whatever that thought about Tim was, surely it'll still be there in the morning. 

***

It starts with laughter. That neurotic laugh. He's running, the scene is familiar, an abandoned warehouse, the clang of metal on concrete. He rounds a tight corner, clipping his shoulder against a wall, and there's a bloody crowbar, rebounding on the concrete, in time with the harsh clang. With each smaller bounce, it flings blood off, speckling the floor. Jason almost tumbles head over heels in his attempt to stop at the sight. 

Eyes blown wide, he scrambles backwards, slamming hard into something solid. He uses it to stand back up. His heart is pounding wildly in fear, stuttering and rapid. A shot of ice is soaking through his veins, adrenaline, according to his useless Robin-knowledge. Jason’s chest is heaving, and in the back of his mind he registers that he’s close to hyperventilating. The joker’s demented laughter is getting louder, Jason clamps his hands hard over his ears. But it isn’t doing anything, he can still hear that stupid, demented laugh. And suddenly, the Pit surges, and it changes from fear, to uncontainable fury. 

He surges forward, green filling his vision, and picks up the nearest weapon. The bloody crowbar. “Come and get me you stupid, lame-ass, clown!” He bellows, taking an experimental swing, and is pleased by the heavy weight of the bar. Jason stalks forward, the Pit in the front seat, he can feel an angry growl vibrating his chest. The Alpha in him egging on the Pit, both in agreeance that it’s time to see that Clown pay. Let’s see how the fucker likes a taste of his own humor, Jason ain’t a scrawny, ill-prepared teen. No, he’s a League trained operative, the God damn Red Hood, and by fuck that Clown is going to regret everything he’s ever done when Jason catches up to him. 

Two corners later, and he almost runs headfirst into the Joker, except he’s holding someone hostage. A knife held to their throat. It’s Sheila, blood shading one side of her face from a cut on her forward, and she’s sniffling and babbling. It’s coated in tears and choked out; Jason can’t make any of it out. Joker pulls her up tighter to his body, the knife blade pressing tight to her throat, drawing a single drop of blood, she squeaks and shuts up in response. Eyes closed and tears spilling out. Even as Jason hates her, feels the sting of her betrayal, he remembers vividly what it was like to be the Joker’s plaything. “One more step Robin 2.0, and I’ll slit her throat like the squealing pig she is!” Jason stops, body trembling in anger, crowbar tight in his hand. 

Before he can even stop to think about whether it’s a good idea or not, he’s slinging the crowbar at the Joker’s voice. “Don’t you touch her!” The crowbar hits him in his stupid grin point first, knocking out a tooth Jason notes with grim satisfaction. Before he can move forward to help Sheila, the world spins again and throws him on his back. Sheila cries out and Jason leaps to his feet. Joker must have thrown her to the floor and is now standing over her. Knife poised for a killing slash. “No!!” He rushes forward, slamming hard bodily into the Joker, sending him flying back. 

Jason blinks and finds a knife in his hand, and suddenly he is driving it home into Joker’s skull, right between the eyes. Joker’s body jolts, and jerks in death throes, his mouth opens, and that demented laugh starts again, getting louder. It echoes. Jason’s hand fly to cover his ear briefly, the other pulls the knife out, a sick, squelching nose, and stabs it into the place where the pale fucker’s heart should be. 

The laughter chokes out, and fades as the vest blossoms with blood in pulses. The crazed light in Joker’s eyes fades out, leaving dull sightless eyes. Jason’s breathing hard, stuck on a loop of the Joker’s laughter. He’s broken out of it by the sound of someone groaning. Remembering Sheila, he moves over to help her, except it’s not Sheila, it’s Catherine. She’s not on the hard-concrete floor, she’s on the stiff surface of the ancient bed she and Willis used to share, and Jason is eight years old. 

Willis is in jail again, and Catherine is in drug-withdrawal. No money for food, let along a hit. And she promised. She promised after the last time Jason had found her, that she’d stop. The shakes had come though, they wouldn’t let her sleep. And so she’d sought out Jason. Pulled him close to her, in the hopes that their combined warmth would make him more comfortable in the cold, and that it’d help lessen the shakes. She’s holding a glass of water to him, he tries to take a sip but is shocked when it turns to ice in his mouth. He’s momentarily confused, but is distracted by her sweet Omega scent. So simple, but so soothing, and something he’s craved to smell since she died. It’s tinged by pain and stress, but it normally is. Jason doesn’t know many other Omegas, certainly not been close to one, Dickie’s friends with some. But Jason isn’t particularly close to any. He’s not going to mess this up, he knows it’s a dream now, it’s too perfect to be anything else. 

Regardless, he recites the lines he used to tell her, he meant them then, and he means them now with all his heart. “It’s gonna be okay Momma,” he whispers, it’s a little hard with the ice in his mouth, and he’s still confused by that, but not going to worry about it. If that’s the weirdest thing that happens, then he’ll gladly take it. She presses a kiss to his crown and runs her fingers through his hair. She gently presses against the side of his head, tilting it to her chest and his face up to her scent gland below her ear. “It’s going to be just fine Jase, you’ll see.” Jason wiggles closer, trying to both keep her warm and soak up the rare cuddles. “I promise you, you’re gonna be fine. It’s just got to work it’s way out of your system.” 

Jason’s eyes slit open at the weird turn of phrase, but he’s too tired to think much on it. Sometimes she just says things a little off, prolly a result of the drugs or one too many o’ Willis’s beatin’s. He’s about to fall blissfully into a deep, dark sleep, the kind that promises a blank unconsciousness until morning, when he notices it’s not the only thing off. She’s reading to him now, it sounds like a passage out of the middle of Pride and Prejudice, judging by the mention of Elizabeth and Jane. Jason’s brow furrows in confusion, it’s too deep, deeper than he remembers it. 

His body doesn’t particularly care though, it’s sore and stiff and just wants to sleep. He can’t help the start of a sigh, the deep breath in is cut off short and he chokes on a whole lotta nothing, or what should have been nothing, there’s still something cold and wet in his mouth, and it shouldn’t feel this vivid, this real. It smells off, Jason breathes in again, holding it in to puzzle it out. It’s definitely not Catherine’s lemon and lavender, it smells like something sweet and thick, like honey, and mellow cream with an undertone of Gotham grime. 

It smells like Tim. And just like that, his thoughts crystallize and reality hits him with the force of a freight train and a brick house. He feigns a calmness he certainly doesn’t feel and uses all his senses to feel out what’s really goin’ on. If it really is Tim, then the last thing he wants to do is startle the obviously-in-hiding-Omega. Not sure why he’d feel the need to hide, but that’s not Jason’s current problem. The current problem being that he’s definitely curled on Tim’s chest, on the bed Jason clearly remembers falling asleep on alone. 

And it’s definitely him, his soft voice reading about the ballroom dance Elizabeth shared with Darcy. His chest vibrates and even though Jason’s ear is pressed high on his chest, right next to his clavicle, he can feel the vibrations and sound amplified. His body definitely is not on board with the stay-under-the-radar plan, and a rough purr starts up. It stutters like a flooded engine of a chainsaw, but steadies out rapidly. Tim’s voice stops mid-sentence at the sound, there’s a long awkward pause, and just as Jason is starting to freak out, trying to figure out how to make the purr quieter or stop, Tim’s voice starts up again. It sounds confused, a higher tone to the soothing pitch. Jason takes one last deep breath, taking in the scent of a calming Omega, of honey and cream, before ceding the fight with sleep. Jason’s determined to remember this in the morning. Start researchin’ first thing. Timmy’s prolly gonna bolt, and there’s nothing he can do without spooking him. ‘Sides that, the only Omega Jason was ever comfortable with was Catherine. He never got close to any others, not many in the vigilante group. He knows Wally is one, remembers the hullabaloo Dick had over it, how Dick had cornered Bruce for a talk on how Dick was to treat him without treating him like a porcelain doll. Jason’s really wishing he’d listened in on that conversation. 

There hadn’t been any his age he’d been close to, and after he’d died, no one in the League would have allowed him that knowledge. Just like everything else to them, it was a weapon. Jason wasn’t taught how pack dynamics worked, how to posture and treat other Alphas or Omegas as a mature teen or adult. They’d certainly not been worried about his ability to bond. And he hadn’t presented before he died, so Bruce had never sat down with him over it. He drifted off to a calm, dreamless sleep, a solid plan in mind, and maybe a call to the Outlaws, maybe Roy or Artemis would have some advice. 

***

Tim is sleeping peacefully, not unusual since he’s only got maybe another night of false-heat left. He doesn’t even get the chance to be startled awake honestly, one second he’s sleeping peacefully, the next he’s waking to Jason yelling a garbled “Don’t touch her” and he’s getting stepped and tripped over. 

He scrambles to his feet to face a rabid looking Jason. His eyes are bright lime and radioactive green, and are hand-to-heart glowing eerily in the dark. Tim shoves himself up to his feet, flinging the tangled blankets to the side. “Jason, it’s okay Jason it’s just me.” But Jason isn’t listening to him. He body slams Tim and they hit the floor hard. Jason’s on top of Tim, and he hauls pack and punches Tim in the face. Hard. He can feel the blood start streaming down his face. And oh fuck, Jason is heavy. Tim is trying to buck Jason’s weight off, he’s got one hand pressed to his nose, and the other blocking any future face hits. He’s taken off guard by Jason slamming the flat of his fist into Tim’s sternum. It knocks the wind out of him. He’s gasping for breath between bloody fingers, but he’s a damn vigilante, a grown and independent man. 

He’s got this. Robin training kicks in, and he shoves hard, jabbing a pressure point in Jason’s chest and shoving him back as hard as he can, shrimping his hips away at the same time. Jason falls backwards, still crouched low on his haunches, and slumping down more to fall on his butt. Tim scrambles back away from him, groaning at the painful twinge in his chest and the throbbing pain in his nose. A hand out in a defensive position, but Jason isn’t making any moves towards him anymore. His chest is heaving but he seems to have calmed down some, no longer actively targeting Tim. “Jason?” No response. “Hood?” Not even a twitch. Tim sneaks behind Jason and heads for the fridge. 

Jackpot. A Styrofoam cup of ice. He breaks a small piece off quickly and returns to Jason’s side. He creeps cautiously up, but Jason doesn’t seem to notice him or care. “Hey Jay, let’s get you back up on the bed, huh?” Tim slides an arm around Jason’s shoulders, and bolsters him up. They stagger the three steps to the bed. “Jason? Hey, can you look at me?”   
Nada.   
Nothing.   
Zilch. 

Tim’s starting to panic now. He’s got them both sitting on the edge of the bed, a hand cupping Jay’s face to look him in the eye. They’re no longer glowing the sickly, Lazarus green, but now they look dull and unfocused. Tim almost prefers the fighting Jay to a catatonic Jay. Jason is slumping over, and he’s a big guy, and Tim’s tired and now has to worry about how to try to blow off the swelling in his nose – which has thankfully stopped bleeding – so he just kinda. Let’s them fall against the wall. 

New plan, just kinda roll with it. Tim manages to coax the piece of ice into Jason’s mouth, hoping that it’ll help ground him or bring him back. It has certainly helped Tim in the past after bad nightmares, or when he isn’t sure what’s real. There’s no response. No squirming or confused expressions, just a blanked out looking Jay. Tim takes a deep breath through his mouth, trying not to irritate his nose, smells pissed-off, protective, sad Alpha and decides to play on that some more. Jason clearly isn’t really with it, and Tim doesn’t particularly want to have to explain anymore bruises when he has to attend the quarterly board meeting first thing on Monday morning. He peels off the scent blocker and drops it to the floor beside the bed, making a mental note to either throw it away or take it with him in the morning. 

Tim gently touches Jason’s crown, runs his fingers through Jason’s hair, trying to judge his reactions to it, see if it wakes him any. It doesn’t, so Tim starts carefully shifting Jay’s head, angling it up his chest to tilt Jason’s head gently to the base of his scent gland. Jay’s got some scruff coming in, it feels coarse in his hand, but his head is limp to Tim’s administrations. 

The hair on Tim’s arms stand up and electricity jolts through him when Jason nuzzles closer, his breath ghosting directly on the scent gland. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, but it’s too late now, unless Tim really wants to battle Jason’s weight with sore ribs to get out from under him. And there’s no other real plan. No way is he calling the bats in on this. “It’s going to be just fine Jase, you’ll see.” It’s said quietly, he’s hopeful that maybe Jason can hear him, maybe not recognize him, but at least here a calming tone. Jason wiggles closer, the first positive reaction and Tim freezes, not even breathing. 

Jason shifts higher on to Tim, and wraps both arms around him, holding him tightly, and taking deep breaths. “I promise you, you’re gonna be fine. It’s just got to work it’s way out of your system.” The position is kinda awkward, and his already irritated back is not pleased, so Tim leans down to hopefully cushion his back with the blankets, at least until he thinks he can get Jason off of him without waking him up, and is surprised when his scrabbling hands hit something hard. 

He grabs it, and pulls it up, it’s a book. He blinks in surprise, taking in the title. “You’re still the bookworm Alfred always told me you are, huh?” He sets it on the edge of the bed and grabs the blankets, careful not to jostle Jason too much. Now with something to cushion him, he opens the flashlight function on his watch to light the pages of the book, he was supposed to read this as a high school assignment and it’s better than staring at the ceiling, when Jason nuzzles closer to him. Whispered words barely reach Tim’s ears, despite the fact Jason’s mouth is so close to his ear. “It’s gonna be okay Momma.” And fuck. Jason’s really breaking his heart tonight. The words are soft, but have a strong reassuring tone to them. Tim feels his inner Omega soften at the soft words. 

Jason’s had such a rough life, it’s never dealt him a fair hand. Jason’s clearly not lucid, but at least he isn’t stuck in some hellscape, and maybe he can keep it that way with some Jane Austen. So Tim starts to read, starting on the bookmarked page, hopeful that it’ll calm Jason down more, and he will fall asleep. Allowing Tim to escape what is rapidly turning out to be quite the restrictive cuddle/hug Jason has him in, and sneak out to his Nest. Tim’s interrupted by a weird sound and it literally feels like Jason’s started vibrating. A rough noise like a stuttering, rolling purr is emitting him, and Tim is freaked out. 

Until he remembers that it’s a whole thing. Alphas do it when they’re pleased. He can vaguely place a time or two he’s heard Bruce purr, but it’s been a long time. Such a long time, it’s a rather intimate thing to hear. It’s such a pleasant thing to hear, and he can feel himself relax more, losing tension in his body. He starts reading again, he has things to do tomorrow, and more sleep tonight would be good, but for the meantime, he’s just going to enjoy these few stolen moments. 


	10. Run and Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason wakes up and Jason.exe stops working at the realization that the Omega snuggled up to him is Timothy Drake, the Beta who Jason's only tried to kill. You know, no biggie. In a panic, unable to move for fear of waking him, Jason decides the best thing to do is feign sleep until he has time to process this new development.  
> Tim wakes and panics at the thought of being found out, tries to hide scent and runs, planning to hide from Jason for the next few days, or you know, the rest of his life. Whatever comes first. Where's an assassin when you need one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Jason's excessive cursing   
> Hey guys! So this chapter is short, not quite 2k, but I plan to start posting more often, I think the next couple of chapters will be on the shorter side. But Jason knows! He just has to figure out what to do with this new knowledge. I caught a couple of discrepancies in the story when I reviewed it yesterday, so I'm going to be fixing those and other errors in the chapters today. The big one being Tim's scent. Early on I said it was honey, and the last two chapters I said it was blackberries. I hope that doesn't mess anyone up too bad, but I'm going to change that. I'll make a note in the footnotes about anything that's been changed. In light of this, I've opened a document just to keep these sorts of things straight so hopefully it doesn't happen again.  
> The next chapter or two will start really explaining how the dynamics are going to work.
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments! Please keep them coming! Also feel free to follow me on Tumblr @homeforthemissingandthelost for updates on chapter progress and schedule

Jason wakes up first in the morning. He wakes slowly, gradual in a way that he can't remember happening outside of the end of exhausting ruts. It's the light that filters through his eyelids first, Jason can't help but revel in the gentleness of it all. He can feel the remnants of what musta been quite a disturbing nightmare, it tinges his conscious in a subtle way, like viewing a rare, sunny Gotham day through a color-tinted pair of sunglasses. Jason takes a breath in, content to stretch and roll over to fall back asleep, when he's assailed by a strong Omegan scent, Tim’s scent amplified, and his muscles lock up in horror as he recalls last night's happenings. 

Keeping a look out for Tim, heading to the docks, the fight and getting injected with something, a vague bike road home, stumbling through a shower before falling asleep. And the nightmare filters in, dreaming about the Joker, about his mom and the calming Omega scent. The scent that is pouring off of Tim. Tim who is currently burrowed into Jason's side. At some point in the night Jason had rolled over onto his back, and instead of Tim staying on the far side of the bed, he had nestled into Jason's side. 

Granted, it's only a twin-size bed, and Jason is not a small guy, coming in at 6' 1, and while Tim is on the small side, this bed is even smaller. Even with Tim pressed into his side they barely fit on the bed together. 

But holy shit. 

Holy fuck. 

Timothy Drake, the kid who replaced him, the Beta Jason had tried to kill, the Robin he had scarred, is an Omega. And SLEEPING ON JASON. Tim must feel how tense Jason got, because he curls in closer, his tousled head which had already been pillowed on Jason's shoulder, is now pressed tightly up against his neck, near his scent gland. Jason pulls his chin up as he feels Tim’s little exhales, breath gently blowing over his scent gland and setting his instincts on fire, trying to gain a little space without waking the sleeping Omega. 

Jesus Fuck, this makes so much sense. 

The mood swings and mopeyness, why during those times Jason was drawn to him and felt the need to check on him, ‘cause evidently you can trick the conscious, but not the subconscious. Somewhere deep-down Jason must have recognized that Tim wasn't a Beta, and that's why he couldn't shove Tim on to the couch or cot without losing sleep, probably why it was easier to be around him than the other Bats. Omega scents are designed to be more comforting and calm, they don’t raise the hackles like other Alphas do, Jason had just assumed it was Tim being Beta. Alfred’s Beta and he doesn’t rattle Jason’s chains, although that might be partly that, but more importantly their relationship before he died. Not that Omegas can't be angry or set off Alphas, because by god the only thing more scary than a pissed-off Alpha is a pissed-off Omega. 

But holy crap, Jesus on a titty-fucking cracker. 

Now what. 

What does he do? What is proper etiquette for this? He certainly can't get up, no way in hell is he waking Tim up. He can't see Tim's face at this angle, no more than the side of his cheek and his hair, but he knows Tim doesn't get much sleep. And oh man, Tim's an Omega. 

It's bouncing around like a paused DVD screen, the logo bouncing around all the edges, lighting up all sorts of ideas and alarms along the way. This makes so much sense. In the long run Jason doesn't know how he missed it, except he does because it's not like it's any of his business. Except now it kinda is because clearly Tim trusts him more than a lot of other people. And oh man, the only Omega in the Bat-fam, there's no way Dickie or B know, because they would have dragged him back much sooner, wouldn't have allowed this distance, or allowed Jason, a deranged Alpha, anywhere near Tim. Jason's Alpha rears its head, demanding he pull the suffering 'Mega closer to him at the thought of someone trying to pull Tim away from him, or limit their time together. It takes a lotta effort to ignore it, even as more thoughts bounce around frantically lighting up red alarms everywhere. 

Jason was drugged last night, Timmy prolly don't even know he's ousted himself to anyone, and Jason is content to leave it at that until he can research inta this more. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, but Tim clearly hasn't told anyone, there's been no news announcements or anything, and oh man. This can't be healthy. How the shit is he handling his heats? Jason knows there's apps and clinics, so maybe he's handling it that way, and it's not really his business but God damn, Replacement has a reputation of taking shitty care of himself, and Jason has seen it firsthand. Not ta mention th' fact B didn't have suppressants for Omegas, for Alphas yeah, cause they're all Alphas or Betas and fuck. Tim isn't comfortable with them, and Jason's heard and seen enough stuff to know as to why that is. How Dickie didn't believe him, how Demon-brat talked and still talks to him. And Jason will never forget showing up one random night to find Tim in here, asking permission to use the Red Robin suit, warning that there was a new Robin out and about, and the long lapse of time without contact after he left. 

Red had shown back up outta nowhere, taking over WE like nothing ever happened. Jason's heart breaks and drops to his stomach as he remembers anotha' vague time they'd sat on a rooftop post-patrol, a rough fight and blood loss, how as they ate some greasy burgers with shakes that Tim snarked back at a comment Jason had made, looping Tim in with "the Wayne brats" and how serious Tim had suddenly become. The air had gone stiff and solemn, Tim's face no longer laughing when he told Jason he wasn't a Wayne, he was emancipated and had dropped the Wayne legally, just had paid extra ta make sure it didn't hit a news outlet. How he still signed stuff at WE as Wayne, and only Tam had known about the change. Surely Timmy's not packless right? Jason's not, he's got bonds with Artemis, Roy and Bizarro, and - Tim. 

Oh fuck. What's prolly the beginnings of a pack-bond with Tim. Deep breath Jason, don't wake the sleeping 'Mega what helped ya. Just gonna lay here and pretend to sleep so's he can sleep, wake on his own and sneak out. Jason’s mind is racing like a hamster on a wheel, speeding along but making no forward progress. The Titans haven't got back together, not really, all still recovering from losing basically three of their members, and Tim certainly doesn't have a pack-bond with the Bat-fam. So he's packless. Unless he's somehow managing to hide a whole ass pack somewhere as Tim Drake, and that can't be good. 

Now Jason wouldn't put it past him to be able to hide a pack bond with someone else, evidently the rumors are true, he lies on the regular to Batman and can fucking get away scot free wit' it. But they'll have ta talk about this at some point, but not right now. 

Jason needs ta get more background on this, learn how ta take care of a 'Mega without been sexist. Tim certainly isn't gonna do it, and he's been seeking out Jason for it. Jason'd lay money neither of them had any idea that's what they were doing, but every time he'd come back to find Tim in his bed, or a restocked fridge, or all the upgrades to the helmet, Tim's been reaching out, trying to form a bond. The stupid kid prolly didn't even know he was doing it. Jason knows Tim didn't finish high school, that he was working on a GED now, which means he didn't get the Dynamics class, same as Jason, and that the Bats certainly didn't know about this, so he didn't get that info from them either. They're both shooting blind, and as soon as Jason figures out how it's supposed ta work, and how ta talk ta Timmy without freaking him out, they'll talk. For now, Jason's content to sit back and let Timmy do his thing. 

***

Tim wakes abruptly to the alarm on his wrist vibrating. Sleeping one second and sitting up in bed the next. He's on his feet before it registers that he's not in his apartment. Tim glances back to the bed he was in and his heart jumps to his throat at the sight. Jason's in that bed, the blanket pulled away from his side, shirt rumpled on that side and an arm stretched out, all detailing the fact that Tim slept with Jason. That at some point in the night, they'd switched positions from Tim comforting Jason, to Jason sleeping and not needing it, rolling away onto his back. And the implication that Tim snuggled up to Jason . . . Has his ears burning and shame filling him. How the fuck is he going to manage to keep this a secret if he's already exposing Jason to his scent throughout a whole night. The light that filters in through the windows is bright, even through the thick, black-out curtains. He's galvanized into motion at the reminder of how late it is, that Jason could wake at any moment, and the thought of his scent settling in galvanizes him into action. 

He rushes to his bag first and foremost he needs to stop it from seeping in anymore. He slaps on a heavy-duty Red Robin blocker. He can't change into anything else and he certainly can't strip the shirt off of Jason to get rid of his scent on Jason's clothes and this is just getting worse the more he thinks about it. His scent has no doubt somewhat settled onto Jason, onto the sheets and the bedding. Tim grabs the fruity candle out of the bathroom and lights it, setting it on the fridge and hoping it doesn’t wake Jason up by the change in scent. Jason is right there on the bed next to him, and Tim can't help but stop to check on him. His face is lax in sleep, making him appear his true age. Jason's barely in his twenties, it's hard to remember. The stress of the vigilante life ages them all. Remembering the nightmare, Tim doesn't reach to check Jason's pulse like he wants to, doesn't need to explain to Jason just how Tim came to be leaning over his sleeping form. Nah, at this point the Alpha would probably be offended by the gesture. 

The paralytic and the Fear toxin have no doubt worn off. And back to work, what else can Tim do to minimize his scent? A quick weather check on the phone reveals nice temperatures in the 60s, a lovely temperature for gloomy Gotham, and it's drizzling outside. Maybe if he opens the windows it'll help? Not sure how to explain away that one. Except! 

Tim rushedly starts grabbing his duffel and stuff, he can sneak out the window, say he left early this morning and went home as Red Robin. He'll have to sneak into the garage to get the Redbird, but there's not much else he can do. Plan in mind, Tim slips through the window, leaving it open in his wake. Jason will probably wake shortly, and the farther away Tim is, the better. Probably wisest if he stays away from Jason for a couple of days, let this incident hopefully kind of fade away into the background of the last couple of days.


	11. Tim's an Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Tim's left, Jason heads out to call the Outlaws for advice and a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason's researching next chapter and it's going to explain the actual dynamics, I had planned to get to that in this chapter, but then it was longer than I thought it would be.  
> I don't actually know much about the Outlaws, I did a quick wiki search on Artemis and Bizarro and stuck with the DC Rebirth background. Sorry if there's any mistakes with that, feel free to let me know if there's something in there that rubs you the wrong way. I hope you guys are doing okay with all the craziness going on, don't forget to take care of youreself!
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments! I really appreciate them and hearing what you guys liked! Please let me know what you guys think! and feel free to follow me on Tumblr @homeforthemissingandthelost

Jason lay still, keeping his breathing steady as he listened to Tim slide out the window. He lay still for a few long moments to make sure Tim didn't backtrack for anything before opening his eyes. The candle to his left caught his immediate attention, and the strong fruity scent makes sense. Tim needed something to cover his scent between scent-blocker use, like when he showered. And the long-suffering argument there makes sense, and Jason is surprised by how nonchalant Tim managed to be when Jason had bitched about it. 

Hell, he'd straight up thrown a couple away in a fit of irritation the first time or three they'd showed up. He'd been highly insulted that Tim thought his place reeked and was being super passive-aggressive by insisting on having one. It had turned into one of the biggest fights they'd ever had since Jason stopped chasing him down lookin' ta bleed him. It ended with Jason storming off and telling Tim not ta visit any of his safe houses. Karma had come twofold back on him, he'd ended up at one of Tim's apartments puking up his guts for two solid days. Jason only made it two hours before lighting the candle in the hopes of cutting through the wretched, acidic scent of sick. 

He vaguely remembers Tim checking on him a few times when Jason hadn't left after the first day. Had gingerly knocked on the bathroom door and left water bottles and crackers outside the door. In apology, Jason had replaced the candle with an exact replica. Now it's a lighthearted tease, but it makes so much sense now. The perfect thing to cover Tim's scent while showering or cleaning up without raising too many flags about not being willing to take showers. 

Jason leaves it burning. For now, he's going to close up this safehouse and head to his apartment. Gonna call the Outlaws once he's there, while O is better about not crossing boundaries, he don't want to run the risk o' one of the Bats sneaking something in. They do every now and then, Tim made a scanner and showed Jason how to find the planted bugs. But that equipment is back at the apartment, and no way is he letting loose on Tim's secret. Once he's closed the windows, changed the sheets and generally cleaned, he packs up and heads to the apartment, the last thing he does before leaving is put the candle back in the bathroom. 

***

Once he's in his apartment, and he's finished a scan looking for any Bat tech, Jason hides out in his room to make the call. The doors are all locked, all the systems locked down. Not even Tim can get in right now without alerting him. Perfect. 

Jason opens the encrypted laptop Tim had gifted to him, it sits on the desk with all his case files, which are organized by date, don’t judge it’s an efficient system. He carefully pushes them to the side as he tries to decide which hail he should use to call the Outlaws. He settles for the second-most priority one. They've got four priority levels, if it's just a normal call it waits until they hit earth again, if it's concerned it sits in the background of their tech, the third level is a call-me-back-immediately, and the fourth will call them mid-fight no matter what. They will drop and run for him if he asked, and the reminder makes his chest swell in appreciation. 

There'd been doubts about running an all-alpha team, but so far all of them had been unfounded. They are off-planet at the moment, Jason’s not with them because they’d recommended, he stay home when he and Tim started helping each other, and figure out what was going on at home base. They told him he’s welcome to join them at any time, but that they think he should stay home until he feels comfortable leaving, or the Bats chase him out, whichever happens they'll be there through it all. Roy and Bizarro do better away from Earth, Roy because he’s constantly worried about relapsing or running into Oliver Queen, and because he wants to feel more settled before rushing into that stress, Bizarro because he knows he’s different than other people and doesn’t want to be treated differently. Jason doesn’t begrudge them that peace, the whole point of him staying here is to hopefully help him find some peace.

So the Outlaws tend to run space missions or stay at Jason's under-the-radar apartment. He goes up for a couple days every month, typically around his rut. Jason finds he does better surrounded by those he trusts than anywhere else, regardless of the fact they're Alphas and he thought that would cause problems, he’s not comfortable hooking up and having flings to ease them. 

Sometimes they call him up just to hang out, and he'll send Tim a note telling him to patrol his area for next night or two, and he knows Tim will take care of it. Sometimes it's just to hang out, sometimes it's for missions, or injuries, or each other’s ruts. They support each other, they've all been cast out and tossed away, but they've found each other, and nobody is going to separate them. No matter what, through thick and thin, through drug addiction and Pit madness, ain't nothing but death gonna keep them apart, and even that they will fight.   
His knees bounce in anticipation as he selects the level three call, deep breath through the nose for a slow-count three, and the line starts ringing. 

Ok, ok, ok. 

Cover story, Jason just found out a close friend has been lying about their dynamic, Jason just wants advice. Now that he's rehearsed what he wants to say, he feels a little better, he doesn't want to oust Tim out to anyone else until he's comfortable with it. The line rings three times and the video opens. 

Roy and Artemis fill the screen, faces grim and alarmed, he doesn't see Bizarro and he's mildly thankful for it, this would probably just confuse him, and Bizarro is a clone after Superman, he doesn't have a dynamic. "Everything alright, Jaybird?" Roy's voice cuts through his thoughts, it's not soft like they expect him to blow up - like the Bats - but it's also non-judgmental, and fuck he loves this team. 

Roy is sitting in the seat, with Artemis leaning over him to view the screen, she’s got her battle axe strapped to her back, which means they’re expecting trouble and are preparing for a Mission. Right, hopefully this doesn’t take too much time away from them. Roy tends to answer the calls and handle most other tech things, Artemis isn't very good at it. She definitely can get by better than the average citizen, despite having grown up in Bana-Mighdall and Themyscira without tech, but Roy is their residential expert. 

Jason opens his mouth, thoughts rehearsing the friend story, and "Tim's an Omega." 

Welp, there went being discreet. He can see them both blink in surprise at the odd turn. "Tim's an Omega and nobody else knows," Jason runs his fingers through his hair, gripping them at the tips, "I found out on accident. Whadda I do?" The panic and stress that hit him this morning is coming back, buzzing under his skin and irritating the Pit and his Alpha. His fingers slide down to cover his face, momentarily pressing roughly against his eyes, making him see spots as memories soar through like a slideshow, pointing out all the things Tim's been doing that pointed to the possibility. 

"Jason, bud, what are you talking about? Are you hurt?" The alarm in Roy’s voice is enough to make Jason sit up to look them in the eyes and spill. He talks about everything, about Tim's mopeyness at certain times, about the candle, how Tim calmed the Pit, and about Tim taking him home last night, taking care of him, and accidentally revealing his dynamic. How Jason had laid still in bed, listening to Tim's flustered, panicked movements around the apartment, not sure what to do without upsetting him. 

They listen attentively, and by the end of it, they look just as shocked as Jason himself feels. "And now it's alla big cluster fuck, an' I don't know what ta do, you know?" Jason gestures wildly with his hands, "I don't know how to bring it up without spooking him, or even if I should, and I don't know enough about this stuff myself. I want ta research it first, make sure I know what I'm talking about, but I don't want to confront him or make him uncomfortable, right? So what do I do?" Roy leans back in his chair with a big huff, pursing his lips to let all the air out in a drawn out "Whoosh" noise, a hand scruffing his hair, he leans back to look at Artemis. 

Roy shrugs at Jason, "Sounds like you've got the right idea, Jaybird. Don't scare him off or confront him if he ain't outright told ya, but you guys are going to need ta talk about it sometime." Jason nods his head, feeling a weight lift off his chest at the acknowledgement that Roy thinks he did the right thing, then looks to see what Artemis's opinion is. 

She nods her head slowly, "I think you took the best course of action, Tim didn't tell you and if he hasn't yet, he's probably uncomfortable. Age-wise, he must have been close to edging out whenever he presented, it can't have been too long ago. So it probably took him by surprise, also, it's not exactly something he's going to want people to talk about. While it's not as common as what it used to be, there's still sexism against Omegas in certain places, not to mention his enemies may try to use that against him.” 

Artemis pauses, tilts her head and squints her eyes in consideration. “I don't think that's why he didn't tell you though, it sounds like he trusts you if he has been staying at your safehouses whether or not you're there, it sounds to me like he's running scared, and doesn't know how to deal with it. Red Robin probably assumed he was Beta, just like the rest of us did, and just doesn't know how to move on and become used to his new dynamic, who to trust with it or even how to bring it up." 

And this, this is why he called them, they're helpful and calm when he can't be, and actually discuss their thoughts, don't just stare him down and demand he do certain things, like the Bats tend to do. "You guys think I did the right thing then, by letting him go?" Artemis nods definitively, "Absolutely, let him come to you, there's no need for you to bring it up unless he brings you into it directly. With that said, don't push him, don't try to figure out if he's taking care of himself properly. He doesn't need someone to tell him how he should act or what he should do, he's going to need to figure that out on his own. If he approaches you with it then you may ask. If he starts nesting in your safehouse, let him do what he wants to feel comfortable, so long as he isn't making you uncomfortable. If you're uncomfortable I recommend you come here or stay at another safehouse until he leaves, he’ll get the point without having to have a tough conversation." Jason has no such intention of turning Tim away if he shows up. Hell, he’ll lock the door and leave if that’ll make Timmy feel better, Jason remembers coming out from under Talia’s thumb, about having to learn how to have a dynamic, and just how overwhelming everything was, and he had the Outlaws to help him, doesn’t look like Tim’s got anyone. 

Roy's nodding his head, waiting until Artemis is done talking before he's piping in too. "If you guys form a pack bond there ain't nothing wrong with that Jay, there's no need to fight it unless you don't want to bond-" And Jason cuts him off there, ""m not entirely against a pack bond, it helps the Pit." He knows his face is turning a little red at the confession, they both look surprised by it, they've looked and haven't found anything that really helped the Pit, and while he’d briefly mentioned it, they don’t understand how much it’s settled, and Jason thinks it’s largely in part to Tim’s presence. Some of Roy's meditations and Rehab tips help, and with the Pit's effects lessening with time and Tim's help it's something they've set aside for about three months now. 

"Well then, I think you did good Jay, I recommend looking into and researching the dynamics a bit so you've got an idea of what to expect, and just keep doing what you're doing." Roy looks down at his watch abruptly, and he straightens a bit. Artemis leans over to look as well and that's Jason's clue, he's not going to keep bugging them, sounds like something came up. He tells them so, and Artemis assures him he can call at anytime, they might not answer immediately, but will get back to him as soon as possible, they bid their goodbyes, and Jason terminates the feed. He slumps back in his chair a bit and just breathes. He hasn't fucked anything up yet, and he's got a plan. Tim's an Omega, and Jason isn't going to treat him different for it, he's going to research it, make sure he's not doing anything to drive him away unintentionally or make him uncomfortable. Tim might not feel like he’s got anyone in his corner, but Jason’s going ta do everything he can ta show him there’s people what care about him, no matter what his dynamic. 


	12. Knowledge is Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason sends a thermos of soup as thank-you through Tam to a Tim who is working again at WE even though it's a weekend. Afterwards, he heads off to a library to read up on Dynamics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in no way meant as a disrespect against any other ABO tropes, at all. But I really want to explore an ABO trope where there's less dubious consent. Theres a lot of writers that pull that off well, but again, I wrote this with the thought behind it for people who that makes uncomfortable. I want to explore a safer feeling ABO world. 
> 
> Super long chapter, lots of world-building in this. The next chapter will switch back over to Tim and will resume the plot.  
> As always, let me know what you think! Comments are so appreciated.  
> Follow me @homeforthemissingandthelost on Tumblr for chapter updates

After his talk with the Outlaws, Jason is feeling better about the whole Tim...situation's not really th' word he's lookin' for...ah, revelation. There we go, much closer. Jason's in the kitchen, stress cooking and thinkin' about what ta do next. He already plans on going to one of the Gotham libraries, is thinkin' 'bout which ones aren't going to catch the Bats' eyes, particularly Oracle, she really is like her name-sake, almost completely all-knowin' it seems these days. 

There's one in th' Bowery, uptown Gotham, an older one in Old Gotham, one in th' Narrows as well. But the Narrows and Bowery, he's worried about not only less information, but more biased. Bein' located where they are, in some of the bad parts of Gotham - Jason snorts, no bad parts in Gotham, just some worse than others - located in some of the more bad parts of Gotham, where there's workin' girls... Nobody is goin' to be interested in makin' sure that 'Megas and Betas are bein' treated right. They make up at least 95% of the corner workers. They aren't as likely to be as updated or unbiased. Years back, there was a lot of bias against 'em, Jason remembers hearing Catherine an' Willis arguein'. Willis was a pretty misogynistic bastard from what he remembers, and lots o' Megas and Betas still stick together and watch out for each other in the bad places in towns. There's always an egotistical asshat somewhere what needs his brains bashed in for trying to mistreat 'em, thinkin' they're weaker 'cause they're physical builds aren't as intimidating. 

Libraries already have a hard time in those areas, not many put much faith in the schooling system, more important that you can learn ta put food on the table as early as possible than gettin' a Diploma which ain't gonna do you no good in those areas anyhow. Somethin' ta look inta, maybe start patrolling them areas, maybe start sneaking in little help pamphlets inta the library just because they don’t stand much of a chance in their environment, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t at least get the chance. Jason makes a mental note ta start lookin' inta it, maybe make a donation to 'em next on his donation list. 

Moving on though, the one in uptown Gotham is huge and fancy. Three stories high and lots o' glass, industrialized an' modern lookin'. They'd be the most likely to have a large amount o' up-to-date info, but they're also very public. He's wantin' ta stay out o' everyone's way and eye. Jason goin' ta uptown Gotham is too high-risk, too attention getting. Oracle will know he's lyin' if'n he bluffs about what he's researching. 

So, that leaves Oldtown Gotham. Smaller, just one-story brick buildin', but quiet, and it's a tourist-y type place. Lots o' people go through some o' the historic sights. Also, it's big enough it's reasonable for Jason to be going there for research, while also staying clear of uptown Gotham, which he has expressed much hate for. Only th' rich hang out up there, and "eat the rich" is something Jason is quite often quoting, while true, it's funny to hear Bruce start listing all the things he's doin' ta help. Jason knows it's true, remembers complainin' about it as a kid, and how Bruce took his advice to heart about Outreach programs and such. Tim continues the work, and brings lots o' stuff on the regular-like for his opinion. Jason's heard he does the same thing with Steph. One problem down. Now th' next. 

While Jason and Tim help each other out a lot, in the early days they - meaning Tim - left little Thank-you notes and gifts all over. And Jason...picked up on the habit. Not sure really when, but he thinks it started with replacing the candle he threw out. How to act natural put keep up the tradition? Typically Jason cooks somethin' healthy for him. His eating habits are as bad as Dickie's in some ways. With his coffees and energy drinks and proteins bars. That's it. Those and takeout are his main food sources. But Jason's a lot more...unsure... about entering Baby Bird's domain now that he knows. 

It feels wrong without Tim's explicit permission. And typically, the thank-you meals are when they're crashing after the case, or they're physically in the same location. Like after a tough case and Tim's patching him up, or dropping off an updated set of gear or something. And Jason doesn't wanna just show up unannounced after Tim left in such a panic this morning...but! Jason can call the office and see when Tim's in next, drop some food off then.   
He's already in the middle of making a thick stew anyway, he can just reheat some leftovers when Tim's in next and that way it's still hot. Even better, he'll send it in a thermos. Tim's always got a thermos of coffee with him, it'll confuse him every time he takes a sip and gets a nice, nutritional broth rather than his unhealthy coffee. Jason can almost see Tim's face in response, if he thinks no one is watching he'll lift a lip in distaste and scrunch his face, if someone's there he'll purse his lips like he just tasted a lemon. Jason's done it before, it was a prank then, and it will add some sense of normality. 

Mind made up, he packages half of the stew in a container for himself, and is about to package up what's left for Tim when he considers the possibility that Tim might be at the office today at some point. He's always up there it seems. So much that he even has Tim's assistant's number. Tim brags on her quite a bit, and after needing ta get ahold of him one time while he was stuck in meetings, Tim gave him Tam's number, with the instruction to use that, and while not to be obvious about the night job, that she knows about it. He hasn't needed to use it yet though. 

He pulls his phone off the charger and scrolls the contacts until he finds it. As the line rings in his ear, he starts cleaning up, leaving the stew on the stove just in case. "Tamara Fox, may I ask who is speaking?" Tam's got a nice, husky voice to her, and while the words are polite, the tone is authoritative and no-nonsense, he already likes her. "Tim gave me this number, was wonderin' if he was in office per chance?" Jason tries to clean the accent up a little bit, no need to make her more suspicious. There's a pause on the other end of the line, "I don't believe I asked how you got this number, if I recall correctly, I asked for your name. Now then, mystery man, exactly what reason would you have for calling, surely if you know Tim you already have his personal line." 

Oops, sounds like she ain't kidding around, and Jason's respect climbs that she's questioning him. "I'm just tryin' to see if his stupid, workaholic self is back at work. He had a late one last night, and was helping me out, just trying to check and make sure he's still in one piece."   
"Is that so." And now the tone is frosty. Shit, he fucked up somewhere. How does one hold such a conversation, talking about a job without mentioning said job? "Yes ma'am."   
"Your failure to answer a simple question does not incite confidence in me, now, if you've got nothing impo-."  
Jason interrupts her, confusedly running a hand through his hair and rubbing his face. "Look, just tell him Jay called. I just wanted to drop something by if he was in, didn't think I'd get the third degree." 

"You could have said that at the beginning, Tim has come in, he looks like crap, he's just lucky there's no one else here besides, him, me and the random janitor. I hope you paid the other guy back." Jason opens his mouth to ask what that's supposed to mean but Tam is on a roll and isn't stopping, it's like a freight train barreling down the tracks. She's got full control of this conversation and isn't stopping for detours. "Anything you wish to drop off, stop by the front desk and tell them it is a drop for Ms. Fox and Mr. Drake-Wayne, they will see to it that it makes it up to him. If it is urgent, I suggest you find a different way to drop it off, a more personal way." 

Visions of breaking into Tim's office through the window fill his mind and yeah, no. "Sounds great Tam, just drop it off the desk. Thank you for your help." She reminds him of a Gothamized Alfred. "Very good, have a good day." Click. Welp, that answers that. He transfers the soup to a thermos and leaves, locking the system down and taking off on one of his more inconspicuous bikes.

***

Oldtown library is pretty non-threatening from the outside, it looks like any other old brick library he's ever seen pictures of. Fairly non-descript, short, squat and quaint. Hopefully it's got the info he needs. Dropping the thermos off had been easy, awkward, but easy. The lady manning front desk didn't pay him any mind, even when he said the thermos was for Ms. Fox and Mr. Drake-Wayne, and man was it weird to call Tim by such a formal name. He'd almost forgotten the "Wayne" but tacked it on hastily at the last second. It didn't seem to matter to the lady, her nametag saying her name was Sam, just as plain and normal as any other office worker. Honestly, it was kinda creepy. Normal people, they're just...weird. 

But from there he'd headed to Old town Gotham, he'll have to stop somewhere else after the library in case Oracle is keeping tabs, make it look more normal. But it certainly doesn't seem to get more normal than this library. By any other city's scale, it would be normal, but by Gotham standards, it's a little too normal feeling to be comfortable. Jason figures it's probably because this is a tourist area, there's a lot less Gotham and a lot more cops those areas. Want to actually know a place, stay far away from tourist options. 

He feels even more out-of-place as he looks around, he's wearing a biker's jacket and has his helmet in one hand. There's a children's section just in front of him, colorful books, little tables and chairs, parents and their kids, farther out, there's a taller bookcase section with a sign hanging by some string overhead, proudly proclaiming it's the teen section. And even further back there's taller bookcases, ones that almost reach the ceiling and definitely stand close to eight feet tall. They loop all the way around the exterior wall of the building, one side having a young-adult sign and fantasy books on display. He shifts his weight awkwardly, now that he's here, he doesn't even know which section he should look in. 

First thought leads him to the adult section. He spends fifteen harrowing minutes looking for the non-fiction area, and still can't seem to find it. They've got a Dewey decimal system here, and it's been such a long time since he's been in anything other than his own collection, and before that, it was Bruce's library alcove or the school library. He blinks in surprise at the thought, it's gotta be close to six years since he's been inside a library. 

Jason's still meandering around, trying to find some sort of indication or cheat sheet for the sorting system when a librarian approaches him. It's an older, middle-aged woman, and by that he means she's not old, but definitely got kids in high school, if not college, maybe grandchildren. Her hair is greying in its serious bun, and she's got kind wrinkles on her face, accentuated around her eyes and mouth. "Can I help you find something, young man?" Jason sputters and feels his face go red. "I, uhm, I think I'm ok - just" and he gestures at the bookcase he was looking at, and turns back, trying to finish his thought, but at her innocent but smiling expression, he knows the game's up. He rubs the back of his head with a hand, "Yes, please, I need help." 

It comes out a little more seriously than he meant it, and it seems to sober her expression a little. "That's alright sweetie," she changes the grip she has on some books, holding them up to her chest rather than just loosely. "Now then, do you know what sections you're looking for? Or maybe what genre?" He thinks about it, almost says he's looking for biology, but thoughts of Stephanie's college Biology books run that thought out. The librarian lightly chuckles, not in a harsh way, but in one o' those weird maternal ways that makes him feel like he's little again an' sneakin' inta libraries with Catherine for th' heat. "Alright, simpler, this is the fastest and easiest way to go. Now, are you looking for fiction or non-fiction?" 

"Non-fiction." 

"Alright, research or pleasure?" 

"Research." 

She nods her head and starts walking, not looking back to make sure he's following her. "History, medical, or law?" And yeah, this system works a lot better, Jason can vaguely remember Alfred using a similar method when narrowing down what to make for dinner. "Medical, might need some history in there, too." 

She turns sharply at the end of the row, heading to the far corner, he'd started on the opposite end, isn't that just the way the ball rolls. She stops two rows from the last row, "These last few rows are all medical, we pride ourselves on our collection, but like recognizes like hon' and you're Gotham, so you know all about why that would be. If you tell me a little more about what you're looking for, I can help narrow it down a more, maybe recommend some, or I can leave you here?" Jason grimaces at the thought of sifting through all the books, and gives in. She's been super kind so far, and he really doesn't want ta have ta spend more time here than he has to, while the more info the better, the longer he's here, the more likely Oracle starts looking for him. She gets suspicious if he starts wandering around, at least according to Tim, and Jason would be hella suspicious in her shoes. So, here goes. "I just found out one o' my buddies is 'Mega," and there's the suspicious look, he can't help but look away, feeling pretty sheepish to admit it but, "neither of us finished high school, you know?" Her face softens a bit again in understanding. "I needed ta do some catchin' up afore, but now, there's a bit o' a reason. His family definitely don't know, and I found out by accident." They words are racing out now, catching speed, "I don't think he even knows I found out, an' I don't know what I'm doing and neither does he, and he wouldn't tell me even if'n I overstepped so I gotta figure it out." 

She looks thoughtful, and brushes past him, scanning the bookcases, after some searching, she pulls three books out, all varying wildly in size and thickness, and hands them to him. "Let's find a nice quiet place to talk about this then." They end up in a little study area, sitting across from each other, the books between them. She slides a pen out of her breast pocket, and Jason takes note of the nametag, Brenda written out in tight, neat letters. He'll have ta submit a review or something. Brenda's got sticky notes on one book, a couple of page numbers written out, and is working on the next. "These are the important sections, you say you didn't graduate neither?" Jason nods his head, a little confused by the change in topic. "You get started on these, I'll be back with a couple more, then I'm going to check and make sure none of my workers need help before I come back to check on you." 

She bustles off hurriedly before Jason can even thank her, and there's no way he's raisin' his voice here. Jason pulls the first book to him and is face with "The Anatomy and physiology of Omegas" and grimaces. It's a thick book, reminding him again of Stephanie and her books, but he dutifully flips through the pages on the little post-it note. The first page is about procreatin’ and birthin’. He blushes so hard his face feels warm, this part isn’t pertinent, he’s not looking to lay Tim, just to make sure he don’t kill himself accidentally. So he skips that part, maybe he’ll come back to it later, but rather doubtful, the workin’ girls he grew up with were good teachers, and again, he’s not looking to lay anyone, he’d much rather spend his Rut with the Outlaws or alone. 

Next section is about Heats, and is one he should probably read. Luckily for him and his complexion, it stays very factual and distanced. He’s surprised by some of the things he’s reading though. It says Megas burn through almost twice the normal amount of calories for the worst day or two, and the biggest threat to their health is actually the sudden weight loss and dehydration. While their system is burning through calories and sweatin’ out the water with a fever, most experience a strong fatigue and nausea. With the cramps on top, most lose a lot of sense of appetite, and it isn’t uncommon for them to vomit some of what they intake. Which leads to some not eating enough, and others there’s little effect and they eat fine, maybe even eating weight because of a slower moving metabolism. And wait a fucking second. Didn’t it just say they had a faster-. Yep. It does. Jason has to read the passage through again, and it does say it can excessively speed or slow the metabolism, that some over-eat, and others under-eat. Some struggle to keep anything down while others suffer constant cravings. It drifts off into warnings about when to be concerned, sudden loss of five pounds or more is cause for concern and a trip to a medical facility may be called for. Here’s hoping Replacement suffers cravings, he’s skinny enough as is. 

Heats are fevers, cramping, over or under-eating, nausea, back pain, general aches and pains, and the list goes on and on, hormonal responses, tend to be territorial, strong nesting instincts, and high levels of arousal. In fact, low nesting instincts are cause for concern. Symptoms of a Heat are most commonly relieved by copulation with an Alpha, while the knot, and here Jason feels embarrassed to be reading in public. This info isn’t the most important of what he’s looking at, but good to know regardless, it’s making him grateful his rut isn’t near as bad as this. Sure, there’s arousal and the hormonal need and protectiveness, but not pain. And pain seems ta make up a lot o’ what it is for ‘Megas. He reads on. The knot helps stretch the muscles and womb, lessening cramps, while the close vicinity to an Alpha lessens hormones which helps with basically all the other symptoms. While semen from an Alpha - and thank god, it’s the end of the page. He doesn’t need ta know the end of that sentence. 

The other section from that book is about general identification factors of Omegas, general appearance and such. Not what he’s concerned about. He skims is anyway, then sets it aside to grab the next. “How to Parent an Omega Child” and here we go, Tim’s emancipated, not yet eighteen, surely some of this applies. He sorts through, going through the page sequences Brenda recommended, and it’s a lot about hormones, and encouraging the child to be whatever they want to be, that while they might face more challenges than the other dynamics they could still be whatever they wanted to be. How to help bullying, how to scruff them to make them stop to listen versus using an Alpha voice to make them listen. That part sets Jason’s teeth on edge. He knows you can make a ‘Mega listen to you, but that doesn’t make it right. It details on the pitch in tone to use it, versus subtly doing it. Asking them to clean their room versus catching them sneaking Alphas in, and ok, Jason can understand not wanting your child sneaking an Alpha in, but it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth. It says while the Voice can’t MAKE them do anything, it at least makes them pay attention to what’s being said, the Voice is only something an Alpha has the ability to use. 

Before he’s fully done with this book, Brenda comes back. She’s only got one more book to add to his stack this time, and he’s grateful, he’s spent a good deal of time here already. Brenda slides the book across the table from him and takes a seat. The title reads “Pack dynamics Through the Years” and that, Jason might just have to check out. The rest of these haven’t been as helpful, yeah it’s good ta know what a ‘Mega goes through on a heat, but not what he’s looking for. “We close shortly, so I’m just going to summarize the important bits, and recommend you take this book home and read it. It’s more in-depth than a high-school class, but I think it’ll suit just fine. Now then, what’s your name sugar.” Jason’s shoulders ease, he still doesn’t feel he’s got the info he needs, and doesn’t want to leave without something actually useful Pack Dynamic wise. “You can call me Todd.” She nods, “Todd, there’s a few important things I want you to leave this building with.” The serious tone in her voice makes him sit a little straighter and pay attention, feeling for the second time that day like a grade-school boy. “First of all, Omegas don’t have to have sex during a Heat, ah, ah, ah, young man. Nothing to be embarrassed about, what you and your buddy are doing is none of my business, but listen here and listen good. If they don’t agree beforehand, invite you in as an Alpha to care for them, then it’s at best dubious consent.” And THIS, Jason is so happy to hear this come from someone at a library. Not what he wants to hear, and as Hood everyone knows he don’t take to rapists kindly, but this lady needs a pay raise or something, Jason cuts an intimidating figure, and she’s lecturing him. “If they need help with their Heats, they will invite you in, if they don’t just leave them be. It’s very rude, the process is much harder on Omegas than a Beta or Alpha like you or me. And just because they aren’t as strong as Alphas, doesn’t mean they don’t have their own strengths. Treat them right and you won’t have to find out what that means. Respect them.” Jason loves this woman. This right here, this is what everybody should hear. Times have changed a lot from what they were, but in poverty-stricken places, like the Narrows and Crime Alley, there’s still a lot of Omegaphobes and abusers. “Communicate. They’re human like you and I, talk to them before you do anything and you’ll be fine. Now, you said the family don’t know, right?” 

“Right, I know most of his friends and family, there’s no way they know. And I found out by accident. So what do I do?” There’s uncertainty in his voice, but he knows this time he’s going to get a good answer.

“That could be because of a couple of different reasons, he could feel that it’s not important, maybe that you two aren’t close enough for you to discuss, he may be insecure in his job and social status depending on his job and not want anyone to possibly hear of it because of the gossip it would cause.” She pauses for breathe, and Jason’s sorting through, trying to think about this, and honestly, most of those reasons sound probable. “Especially if he’s in an Alpha based environment, or has unsupportive family and friends.” All of these ring true for Tim, he’s complained about the family with Jason, Jason can’t name any friends outside of the Bats’ or Tam. Maybe whoever Pru is, hopefully there’s someone out there. “If he has no support system, then there could be problems. It CAN and WILL eventually affect his physical and mental health. In this book,” She lays a hand on the book she brought out to him, “it outlines what those problems are, and how best to deal with them. With all of this said, you are an absolute dear for looking into this for him, but it is NOT your responsibility, nor your job, to ensure he is getting the things he needs. Do not feel pressured into fixing him, because hun, there is nothing wrong with him, and it isn’t your job to get closer to him and make him be okay with his dynamic, that will have to be something he does himself. It is your job not to treat him differently. The only exception to this is if he starts displaying symptoms of not doing so well, outlined in the book, but depression and irregular, hard Heats are the main concern. They would be caused by lack of a Pack Bond. If you suspect those things, your best off contacting whoever you think can help him in his family or close friend group, preferably another Omega, alright?” Jason’s head is spinning a little at the influx of information, but he nods. “Brenda, you’ve been so helpful, there oughtta be more people out here like you.” He slides her a card from WE, Tim gives them to him all the time to hand out to people who could use the type of help WE can provide. She takes it and pockets it without looking, but Jason isn’t offended by the gesture, for all she knows he’s part o’ one o’ the mobs. “Good luck hun, make sure you get that book back in the next two weeks.” 


	13. Work Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is back at work on Monday. He is forced to leave a meeting early due to a surprise bloody nose. He runs into Bruce in the elevator. The no-good day is wrapped up with the Board demanding a drug screening to prove Tim is not under the influence of anything and healthy enough to hold his prestigious position. Or, how Tim's day goes to shit in a very short time span.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot resumes! Warnings for blood, what could come off as some depressive talk and some self-esteem problems? Tim's not in the best of head spaces at this point in his life. I know Bruce sounds mean in this, but we aren't getting his perspective. Tim's is skewed because of the way things have gone since Bruce was lost in the time-stream and Bruce is an emotionally stunted being only born with the emotional expression of a potato. AKA, Bruce doesn't express emotions well and neither does Tim, leading to this sort of situation. Bruce has to use whatever he can to get Tim to interact with him and the rest of the Bat-fam, not including Jason of course. 
> 
> This chapter is just over 2k, but quite a bit happens in it. Next chapter should go up this weekend at some point. For updates on chapter progress, check me out on Tumblr @homeforthemissingandthelost. Thank you guys for all the sweet reviews! As always, let me know what you think

Tim makes it through the weekend fine. By Monday, his nose is still swollen, and there's bruising on it and up to his eyes. Side effects of the suppressants, his blood is thinner so bruising and more bleeding is a constant fight. The good news is he's gotten really freaking good at makeup. The bad news, is it's not the bruising that causes problems.

No.

It's a bloody nose.

In the middle of the quarterly meeting.

In front of everyone.

They’re only halfway through the four-hour meeting when it starts. And it stops the whole table. He is vehemently arguing against pulling money from R&D toxin studies to fund a more extravagant gala when the faces staring at him change from irritated and annoyed to disgusted. But it isn't until the first drop hits the table that Tim realizes what is happening. Honestly he only notices it because he looks down to check his notes and there are blood droplets on it. Even then, Tim doesn't stop, he pulls a kerchief from a pocket and stems the bleeding. He continues on nonplussed.

"Our research on toxins is not only important but a necessity here in Gotham." He knows his voice has gone from angry and firm to something determined but tinged with desperation. He's not going to win this round, but Tim's going to make damn sure these people remember it during the next Arkham breakout. "The next time Scarecrow or that crazy Clown get out we will have something to work with, the strains are similar. It takes time to make even minuscule changes let alone to completely redesign a strain!"

Tim's forced to refold the kerchief, as it has started leaking, the warmth seeping in a thin, red rivulet down his fingers. He holds it partially under his chin to catch the drips, making sure that as he speaks it doesn't impede his voice. It's a delicate balance that quite frankly is just letting the blood drip down into his hands. "It is not a good business decision, our galas have historically been extravagant and beautiful, sometimes over the top, but now we are back as the most sought after design and research company, it should be better placed than on the twenty grand we already have set aside for that gala."

Tim wishes he could continue, but the kerchief is soaked through, dripping on his suit. It doesn't bother him, but the faces of the Board all look disgusted, faces twisted in a scowl, and some just blatantly ignoring him, not making eye contact or even pretending to hear him speak. Tim glances over to Lucius and he makes a small motion, flicking his fingers and Tim knows he has lost, that it is time to excuse himself to take care of his nose before that becomes even more of a spectacle. "If you will excuse me, Gentlemen," Tim stands stolidly and steady. "He makes curt bowing of the head to the men, "And Ladies, have a good day, I must see this attended to, Lucius." Lucius looks at him and quirks an eyebrow, "please send me the minutes and decisions." Tim pays his respects and leaves, absolutely seething.

Of all the blasted times for his body to betray him, in front of the Board is even worse than in front of any Rogue, or even an Arkamite! He rushes quickly to his office, taking the elevator rather than the stairs so he can actually start holding pressure to his nostrils. The elevator ride sucks. There are fifteen stories between Tim's office and the meeting rooms they use for the Quarterlies. Tim allows himself to slump in the corner of the elevator. His head is tilted down, the kerchief is basically useless and has started dripping blood everywhere.

He's a literal Goddamn bio-hazard right now, and the day has just been shit from the start. But don't think about that, don't breakdown, can't do that here. Distract. Bio-hazard. Right. He pulls his phone from his pants pocket and types an email to the janitorial department, trying valiantly to think of an excuse for why they will have to shut down elevator #8 and clean up blood trail leading from the meeting room to his office. The rumour mill is already spinning no doubt.

So what causes nose bleeds? Dry air. Okay, dry air, dry air. Travel. Tim traveled to the desert.... ah... the...Grand Canyon!! He's rich and while he doesn't quite have the reputation Brucie does, he still has enough of a flighty reputation to fit in with other businessmen. That sounds reasonable. A weekend trip to the Grand Canyon. He adds to the email, the dry air must have been a drag on his system and caused a nose blood suddenly being back in nice, humid, polluted Gotham. He types rapidly, one thumb straining to reach across the wide WayneTech phone screen, hoping to send it before the elevator stops. And....sent!

Just in time, the doors open with a polite ding. He steps out, still looking at his phone screen, and smack dab into a solid wall. It almost knocks him off his feet. Tim barely manages to keep the phone from hitting the floor, fumbling with it for a second. Tim looks up, mouth open to apologize but there's a familiar looking hand stretched down to him, attached to a long arm, attached to a concerned Brucie Wayne.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that Chum, you alright? That bloody nose isn't from me is it?" Before Tim can even attempt to protest Bruce has pulled him up on his feet. Even through the stupid Brucie mask, Tim can see the concern that leaches through his eyes. It sinks into Tim's pores, into his very being and lights it on fire, in irritation and anger. Of all of the days for Bruce to show up, it had to be today. Tim doesn't need Bruce's support, and certainly not for something as inane as a freaking nose bleed. If Lucius sold him out...Tim doesn't know what he's going to do yet, but surely he can think of something that won't magnificently backfire. Sabotaging one of his only supporters is not a good move.

Tim forces out a casual laugh, holding the soiled kerchief to his nose, distorting his voice. "Silly travel, humidity changes, does horrible things to the body, doesn't it?" He's careful not to tack on a "Bruce" or "Mr. Wayne" on there, no way is he calling him Dad, the man hasn't apologized for a damn thing, let alone thanked him for all the grief Tim's been through with his damn company and offspring. Bruce has an arm slung firmly across his shoulders and is steering him in the direction of Tim's office. To the casual observer, it looks affectionate and Bruce is definitely pulling off the concerned father bit.

Tim's skin feels like it's crawling, he hates this part. It's easy to pretend they are still on good terms, laughably so, but the forced affection...not so much. Tim's own family was not physically affectionate, and almost none of his nannies were either. Janet hadn't approved, a Drake heir was independent and didn't need help or affection, he shuts down that thought before it can drift off to what they would have thought of him now, now that he has presented as an Omega. Not a calm Beta, or a strong Alpha businessman, but an Omega who wants absolutely nothing to do with either. It's not his fault his biology failed him in the worst possible way.

Brucie is still droning in his ear, talking about home and Tim's "siblings" and Wednesday dinner, and "it would be awful nice to have the whole family over now wouldn't it?" And finally, Tim's office. He tries to brush Bruce off and close the door between them, but Bruce is a bear of a man and pushes through anyway. The door closing sounds like Death's bell to Tim. "Everyone include Jason?" The tone is his "Timothy Drake" voice, all business and impossible to tell whether it's good breeding or sarcasm with it. Bruce tips his head curiously, watching as Tim flits around his desk to pull out his stocked first aid kit. He pulls the small one out, no need for Bruce to get on his case if he sees the actual kit Tim keeps in here.

"Jason said he will come if you do." It's a flat tone, but when Tim glances up, he can see the hope in Bruce's eyes. That is somehow more irritating than the concern was. They wanted him out, well, he got the fuck out, got the headline! Tim understands his place, understood it when Dick pulled his colors, when Damian tried repeatedly to kill him and went unreprimanded, when after saving Bruce he didn't even get thanks in return.

Tim drops the kerchief in the little trashcan a little more forcefully than if it had just dropped, enough to show his irritation, but nothing that can be called out. Tim was raised by the Drake's, he knows the art of passive aggressiveness, it was a tool to be honed and used. It leaves an impressive amount of damage and makes an impact while also never being anything that can be labeled as actual aggressive behavior. Tim didn't learn much from his parents, but this tool was something that has helped him in every aspect of his life.

"And why would there be a need for a mid-week dinner exactly? One big enough to get the whole gang together?" His tone is still flat, still "Timothy Drake" at the wheel as he pulls out the experimental swabs. They look like modified q-tips. Bruce's brows furrow as he watches Tim's movements like a coiled viper. The q-tip is Tim's own design, not released yet to R&D, it's based off the powder and q-tips veterinarians use on quicked toenails during trimming. He swabs one nostril, then the other while waiting for Bruce's response.

"Does there need to be an occasion?" Tim's got his head over his trashcan, keeping the slowing, drip of blood over the desk trash can so as not to ruin the carpet. Blood stains are a bitch to explain or get out. He can't keep the unimpressed look off his face when he glances up at Bruce, letting the silence answer him. Bruce shuffles uneasily under the glance. If he wasn't so tired, Tim would be proud of the fact he can make the Batman feel uneasy, but adulting is hard, and there is no energy to feel pride.

"Six o' clock, Dickie is coming in from Bludhaven, Barbara as well." Tim stares blankly at him, waiting for the gutshot or the sweetening of the deal, he swipes a finger under his nose and is pleased when there's no smears of blood. Good. The prototype works. This is so much better than the last time it happened, couldn't get the bleeding to stop, ended up needing some back up blood by the end of it. But back to the situation at hand. Bruce wants something, it's just seeing what Tim can get out of the deal at this point honestly. Tim will never turn away a plea for help. That's the whole reason he signed up for this shebang.

"What do you need, Bruce?" Tim sits in his desk chair, and has to try not to slump down. Even though his heat ended yesterday, he's still exhausted. "Alfred said he will make pizza if I can get everyone back, specifically he will even try your favorite if you can get Jason back in again." And there, help with Jason. Was that really so hard for the man to admit. "No promises, I'll have to check my schedule."

"Then I'll clear it." Bruce's voice is determined and unwielding.

"My other job has requirements, in case you forgot what it was like to work two jobs, then I must remind you of these things called consequences of missing work." Tim is almost gritting the words through his teeth, still trying to maintain a professional air while also seeping out his irritation. Bruce can't just come in here and demand Tim change his schedule on a whim.

There's enough problems with the Board without Bruce coming in and disrupting it. If he wants it back, Tim's got the paperwork here. It's literally one call away. But no, Bruce is being an asshole and is just lording over him. Tim is his soldier, and he knows it. Bruce seems somewhat appeased by the response. "Very well, I'll see you there, Timmy, got to go take a look at those Quarterly numbers."

  
And yep. Lucius. Tim typically loves the man, but lately he's started pulling this shit lately, and it's majorly ticking Tim off. He's got enough people against him, what changed? Where did Tim mess up badly enough that Lucius feels he has to resort to dragging Bruce back? Tim roughly shoves the first aid kit away and opens his schedule back up to work something out for Wednesday. Damn Bruce.

He opens his email to reschedule an evening meeting with...HR and winces at the prospect. They don't appreciate being pushed off. Tim is typing up the email, asking to move the meeting up rather than delay it, when a notification hits his inbox. He sends the email to HR, glad that the worst of the rescheduling is done, all else he's got for that day is a patrol with Jason, his own cases in there too, but Bruce got lucky. Wednesday is his clearest day this week. He closes out and opens the new email and his heart hits his stomach.

The Board is demanding a drug and overall health test "in light of a recent development." No fucking shit. Damn his nose. Nah, the freaking suppressants.Except that's Tim's fault for not being able to make a better solution. He wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for the Bats. So there, damn the Bats. He will have to flush the suppressants out. No way can he have those showing up in his system. Shit. Okay, time to go home. The Quarterly meeting was the main goal for today, and now that he's been kicked out of that, there's nothing here that he can't do from home. And he needs to be at his Nest where he can synthesize something to flush the suppressant out. This isn't going to be fun.


	14. The Continueing of Tim's No Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is at home trying to figure out how to fix the whole suppressant mess when Jason asks him for help. Helping Jason turns into Tim's bad day Part II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blood, injury, some frustrated Tim and cussing  
> So this monster happened...I was not anticipating this chapter being this long when I sat down to write it, this wasn't even part of the original draft. But yep, nice long chapter ahead! I think at this point we are now about halfway through the story I planned? Considering this chapter wasn't planned it could be longer or shorter.

There isn't enough time. 

That's all Tim can think about, how fleeting time is, there is never enough of it when it is needed, and yet countless days, weeks and months alone in a manor, so much time when he didn't have it. Tim used to hate being alone, going home to an empty house, but right now he would do anything to have that. 

He's still hypothesizing the best way to purge the suppressants out of his system, on their own by three or four days they would be low enough any results should be undetectable. They're legally required to give him at least 24-48 hours, and Tim has already taken advantage of that, responded civilly to the email with the earliest doctor appointment he could have made off of the list of health officials he had been given. 

The doctors on the list all worked in various health clinics or hospitals around Gotham, but none who Tim would have picked had he the choice. His first thought was Leslie, but she would definitely mention certain health conditions to Bruce, and that is not something Tim is particularly wanting, but if WE is enforcing this checkup, they're already going to get an abridged medical history. 

His next go-to would have been his own childhood physician, but he can't remember their name, and they aren't on the list so it's not like it matters anyway. Tim researches the doctors a little to make sure none of them are going to sell out his info, and goes with the most put-together looking one. A doctor born and raised in Gotham but who attended school elsewhere. Hopefully that means they're less likely to go rogue and turn into a superhero of some sort. His name is Dr. Marcus O'Malley, he graduated in the middle of his class, but has rave reviews. Hopefully this one doesn’t turn out to be nuts. But no matter who the doctor is, blood work doesn't lie and his suppressants are going to pop up one way or another unless he can think of a way to change his blood or dilute it somehow. Tim has spent the last three hours on this bullshit. 

There is no way out, only through, so Tim's going to carve a freaking canyon through this pile of crap. Just let them try to take this from him, too. Tim pauses in his work long enough to reach blindly for the energy drink somewhere on his desk with one hand. He is too focused on his notes for the suppressant and its effects on blood to care to look, but before he can manage to take a sip from the wayward can, his wristwatch vibrates with a notification. 

It's Jason. Who has been checking in with Tim more frequently since the whole mess over the weekend. It makes him anxious, but surely if Jason knew he would have confronted Tim, so he pushes it back to the end of his mental Rolodex. 

J: Could use your help tonight down by the warehouses at the docks. The bats are still investigating. Big Bat wants your debrief. Tim picks his phone up with a huff, he's got his own fish on the fire right now, it would be nice if everybody didn't come knocking down his door when he was in the middle of a task.   
T: My debrief is in the system. I have projects I'm working on tonight, can do a short patrol, no more than two hours on your turf.   
Jason only sends a thumbs up in response. 

Tim knows Bruce and Dick want an actual explanation for his interactions with Pru, that his updates in the system were not detailed in that aspect, but that's none of their business. He made a small side note that he was to be notified when she shows up in other places. They might not do it out of spite, but Tim's pretty sure that they'll do it out of fear it's another Ra's level player. 

The bats are clearly not happy with him, there's no less than five missed calls and a few texts and emails from them asking random questions.   
Tim hasn't checked them yet. He's not ready to be cornered for information and certainly doesn't want to talk about the year he was missing. Patrol with Jason is already a bad enough idea as it is, but Jason tends to tone things down while Tim is there, and Jason typically doesn't ask for favors for no good reason.   
Sometimes it's just because Jason's had a bad day, in that he is in a very murder-y mood and it's Tim's job to keep him from going overboard, other times Jason just wants a set of fresh eyes. Time to suit up, hopefully he will think of something on the suppressant front while he's out, sometimes all you need is a change of scenery to oil up the gears. 

***

Tim is confused. Jason met up with him at the warehouses just as planned, but there's nothing happening. It's just a stakeout, no real reason to call Tim out here, and Tim can't help but be a little annoyed. He knows he shouldn't be, it's not like he told Jason about his suppressant problems, but it's not like he can.   
Everyone in the hero community just assumes he can drop everything and run to suit their needs at the drop of a hat, and while he does do that, and that's probably why they think it's okay, that doesn't make it easier for Tim. He just wants to make sure no one is biting off more than they should chew, that no one is going to asphyxiate themselves but for Pete's sake he's got his own problems and a Fortune 500 company he has to run. 

They are literally just watching the boats come in and checking in with O to see what they're scheduled for, listening for the same name as the one over the weekend. Tim honestly doesn't even know the name, didn't pay attention when he saved all their asses on Friday. It's a bat thing, not in his territory so he tries to keep his nose out of it, but now he's kinda wishing he had paid more attention. Jason and O are droning on in his ears, but he's tuned them out to focus on his suppressant problem. 

Suppressants aren't a carefully measured toxin or poison; people don't just overdose on those either. There isn't a way to just cure it or take it out. It's already in his system. So how can he get it out? He's abruptly pulled from his thoughts by Hood literally grabbing him and pulling him to the edge of the roof. Hood jumps off and Tim is forced to follow, very aware of O listening in. Tim follows his lead, weaving in and out between alleys and crates until they're at the docks again. 

"What are we doing, Hood?" 

"What, were you sleepin' up there? That shipment is a little early, gonna go check it out." Tim can feel his cheeks flush at the accusation. "Was distracted, some of us have real day jobs you know." There's a brief pause, a moment where Tim can see Jason's shoulder tense minutely, and fuck. 

"Yeah, heard somethin' onna chatter bout WE. Anything I can help with, Red?" Why...why would that be something they talk about? That's not Jason's fault he heard, and Tim's glad to know the Bats are gossiping about him, but come on. He fucks up and everyone hears about it, the rest of the hero community can mess up all they want, but everyone just wants the gossip on the second failed Robin. 

The one that went off the deep end after his Batman, only to get pushed out by the Bat's blood son. The whole hero community probably knows about it, certainly the Titans and the JLA and they aren’t known for keeping the gossip to themselves. "Nothing you can do unless you want to debate tax season and money transfer with the Board for me." Tim’s ire is somewhat calmed by Jason's snort in response. "Hah! couldn't get me ta touch that wit' a ten-foot pole, Red. Would literally rather have ta explain ta B just what that one duffel bag hadda get pitched for." 

Tim feels a shiver run down his spine at the mention of one of Hood’s most grisly accomplishments, he remembers Roy explaining to him as ‘that one time Jay stored a bunch of heads in the bag.’ Tim shut Roy up before he could get more details on it, Tim might not agree with Jason killing, but he can understand it. That doesn’t mean he wants to hear the grisly details though. Maybe there is a reason Jason wanted him along for the night after all. 

They board the ship without problem, but there's still a lot of space to cover for just two people. "You take the upper levels and I take the lower? Meet in the middle? Don't see anyone around here." They're the only ones on the ship it seems, all the lights are off and no one even in sight of the ship. Hood nods and they take off, Hood clearing the upper levels and Captain's cabin first. Tim pulls his bo out for just in case, never know when something is going to go wrong, and this is not starting out to be his week. 

He makes it to the bottom-most level without incident. The rocking is throwing his balance a little, and the constant shifting of equipment and cargo is making him uneasy. No one likes to admit it, but the lower levels are also where the rats, mortuary, and jail are located. The lowermost levels go quickly and easily, no sign of people or anything off, and it's not until he is on the third level that he starts running into actual cargo. It all looks fairly normal, but he calls the wooden crate numbers into O just in case for her to check over. 

Tim is still looking around and waiting on a response when he hears hurried footsteps approaching, so he squeezes in-between some crates to hide and hopefully catch a glimpse of whoever is going by. It's certainly not Hood, too soon for that, and the footsteps are all wrong. For being built like a tank, Jason is surprisingly light and quiet on his feet. 

Tim pulls back and has to hold his breath to fit in the narrow space, any bigger and he certainly wouldn't have fit, Damian might have fit, but definitely not Hood or Nightwing. It’s not often Tim is grateful for his lean build, but this part of the job always reminds him just how much easier it is for him to hide. 

The figure, decidedly male, storms by quickly, body language conveying annoyance or anger. "'S no' mah faul' tha stoopid bastard got hisself caught, shouldna made i' mah job a make sure everythin' done proper like." There's more angry grumbling and as it fades Tim slides out of his hidey hole to trail the man, there might be hope in this. "You get any of that, O?" Tim speaks quietly into the comm. "That's a negative, Red Robin, can you get me closer or place a bug?"   
If it had been an actual building and not, you know, a ship, she would have been able to hack some cameras at least, but that's much harder to do when the system isn't hard wired, there's no reason to hard wire a shipping boat, so Tim trails the mysterious figure. The people most likely to spill secrets are the ones who behave just like this one, angry or irritated with their employers. 

If there's something going on with this ship than Tim is going to have more luck with this schmuck than going through hundreds of crates. Tim follows him all the way to the upper levels into a series of office spaces, he's careful not to get too close. He's got his ear pressed to the wall, hoping to catch some sort of helpful info, there is no way could he sneak in the actual office with this guy. 

Unfortunately, nothing is coming through the wall, Tim can hear dull thumps like drawers being opened and closed but that's about it. Tim slips a Bat-approved listening device near the floor. "How about now?" He asks as he presses the small button to activate it. "Whadaya got for me Red?" And that's Jason's voice. "Tracker says you're in my levels, on my way to you." And damnit, Tim forgot about those. Of course coming up to the area Jason would be in would make Jason come to him.

"Tracker?" The clacking keyboard noise stops for a second, clear surprise in O's voice. Well, there went that secret. "O, th' only reason you're listenin' in on this convo is 'cause this case is more Bat's than mine, so butt out." Whoa, Jay does not sound pleased about something, Tim is just hoping that something isn’t anything Tim’s done. His voice is doing that growly, displeased thing Alphas sometimes do, and it makes his hair stand on end and his heartrate uptick for a few seconds. Clearly Jason’s on some sort of good terms with the bats if they’re letting him do errands on one of their cases, but apparently it’s not very good terms if he’s getting all growly at O. Tim's also just kinda in shock that O didn't know about the tracker, he figured Jay would have told them eventually, or that O would have found it when she insisted on going over Hood's gear. 

Early on in their partnership, when things were still rocky, Jason had gotten defensive about Tim dropping by unannounced, so Tim had had made a program in response. He left it off so Jason can't see his movements normally unless Tim activates it. Tim only activates it when they plan on working together, initially it had been on any time Tim was close to Jason's territory, so Hood could avoid him if him he so wished. 

It’s been upgraded to automatically turn on when they get within like a mile of each other. It's actually a pretty useful set-up, Tim might not be able to see where Hood is, but when shit goes down Hood knows exactly where not to make big booms. Considering the second robin died in an explosion, you'd think he would have some aversion to explosions, but rather the opposite. He's actually a bit of a pyromaniac, but Tim can't say anything, he's an explosion guy himself.   
But yes, there is a tracker that will pull up Tim's exact location when in near proximity to each other, the tracker is sewn into the shuriken symbol in the middle of his chest, where the bondolos meet. Tim might have to turn that off now, the point was to let Hood know where he was, not the bats. Now that O knows, no doubt the next time she can sneak her hands on Hood's… hood, she will try to hack the technology. Tim is good, but he's not Oracle good. 

"The bug, O." He reminds her, solidly ignoring her question before, Tim's not too sure why Hood feels like meeting up with him when it's seemingly only the one guy here but whatever. The shipment on Friday was supposed to be simple, if Hood wants to provide back-up and mother-henning that's his business, Tim isn’t going to turn it down, even if Hood just comes down to snark at him. 

If this bug works, then Tim wants to place a few more bugs and then they won't have to call in numbers on the rest of the crates downstairs, they'll be able to get a lot more vital information from the bugs than they would by false ID numbers anyway. "Can you place more bugs, Red Robin? This one is really quiet; the next ones will probably have to be closer to be of any real use." 

Of course, fine. Tim moves on, sneaking quietly past the closed door, to bug the other rooms. He's got two more bugs with plans for another one or two down here when he hears footsteps behind him. Must be Jason, Tim turns slightly to look at him, ready to sarcastically applaud his fast arrival when instead of Jason's figure he's met with a swinging crowbar. 

He manages to barely deflect the blow with his bo staff, but Tim is still crouched on the floor. He's been placing the bugs under the desks, and is now cursing his stupidity at leaving his back open and being caught by surprise. These office doors had been open, closing them would have looked suspicious, so he had left them open. Also, there was Red Hood who was evidently rendezvousing with him, he hadn't thought it best to close the door. 

He was wrong. So wrong, clearly. "Got ourselves a Birdie, boys!" The burly man shouts, still wildly swinging what turns out to be a pipe, not a crowbar. Piece of metal that causes great deals of pain, close enough, brain, you are forgiven for this one mistake, Tim thinks. He ducks the next swing and swipes the man off his feet with the bottom end of his staff. One of the most useful things he ever learned it the joints. They are always a weak spot, for man, beast, plant, or robot.   
He flips over the desk and scurries out of the room. "Got problems, Hood." There's vehement swearing in his ears but it's quickly covered by the loud sound of a close-range pistol. Tim tucks and rolls on instinct, the bullet goes high. Tim is getting the hell out of here. A ship is no good place for a shoot out. "On my way out Hood, back it up." Hopefully Hood listens, whatever info O picks up with the bugs is more than the bats would have otherwise, this isn't Tim or Jay's mission, it was...extra credit. In a vigilante world at least. 

There's the thundering sound of more footsteps, and shit, this might have been a set-up. And there! Stairs! Tim might just make it out of this unscathed. He uses the staff to vault himself up the first six steps, the likelihood of the stairways being clear the whole way up is very low, but they've just called it in. Hired hands typically hang out in these levels, so it's a pretty 50/50 shot whether or not he will make it out without more trouble. "Where you at, Hood?" Tim spits out quickly, unloading his grapple gun and aiming it for the hand rail a few stories up. "Was halfway to ya Red, almost out on my end." Awesome, Hood can provide a distraction up-top when he gets out then. 

Just as the grapple starts pulling Tim up, there's a gun shot, and pain slashes through his leg, burning and ripping. He manages to keep hold on the grapple as it pulls him up. There are more shots beneath him, and Tim is frantically pushing off the passing handrails to make his body a harder moving target. The momentum swings him back first into the handrail more than once, there's going to be some fantastic bruises, and he can feel the warm blood trail down his thigh. 

Hood will have his head if he doesn't tell him he's injured, but Tim doesn't want to alert O. She will most likely send out Nightwing to assist and Tim doesn't want to deal with that. There are too many other things going on right now to add more unnecessary bat interaction. But a pissed-off Jay isn't fun either.   
The gunshots have stopped, whoever was shooting is probably reloading, maybe out of range, and Tim's grateful. The grapple finally has him pulled to the top, and he carefully hauls himself up and over the rail, careful to not bump his injured leg. Looking up, he's only got two stories left to climb, but on a bum leg the grapple is easiest. Another gunshot sounds and he shoots the grapple. 

"Awful lotta ruckus, you good?" Hood's voice still manages to sound gruff and annoyed, but Tim can hear concern leaking through. Better to tell him he took a hit then have Hood yell at him with O on comms, this way he can kind of keep it under wraps. Jason understands not wanting the bats to know stuff, but he draws a firm line with injuries. "Took a hard hit, but I'm almost out, gimme a distraction before I pop out." 

Tim is finally at the top, he slides over the rail and listens to the oncoming storm. There's a group coming up the stairs for him, but he needs to stem the bleeding at least a little bit. Tim pulls some gauze from his utility straps, he colored them a red to match his suit and hopefully not draw attention to injuries. Hopefully Hood let's him go without a fuss once they get off the boat. 

Once they got on good enough terms to start patching each other up it has practically become tradition now if it's going to so much as require stitches. Tim just wants to go home. He still has WE responsibilities in the morning and has to figure something out with the suppressants. He wraps it quickly, frowning at how fast the blood seeps through the wrappings. Time to cut this fun short. "Ready?" 

"Gottcha back, Red." Tim opens the door and stumbles to the first block of crates, any sort of shelter for the hell Hood is unleashing. There's lots of gunfire, and Tim is only hoping Hood's using the rubber or salt pellets instead of actual bullets. "Cops on the way, status report." O's steady voice cuts in over all the noise. "Blowing this popsicle stick O, saw you come out Red, ready for pickup." And oh shit, did Hood set charges somewhere?   
Tim's already weaving through the crates and other miscellaneous supplies to get back to the dock. Except…"We've got a problem Houston." There's a literal mob waiting for them on shore. Hood pops up behind him and they survey the scene from the safety of the crates. "Too late for that now." And suddenly Tim is picked up and literally thrown over the side of the boat. 

Water fills his nose and mouth, the water so murky he can't see. Tim surfaces immediately inwardly cussing up a storm, now he's got some serious concerns over a possible infection. 

Tim just got thrown overboard. 

Jason yeeted him. 

Just plucked him off his feet and yoinked him. 

Hood surfaces next to him, "What the literal fuck was that!?" Tim's pissed. This is not going well, oh no. It's not like Tim was worried about anything before. This whole thing has gone so FUBAR. Before Tim can start yelling at Hood more, he's being towed the few feet to the docks and shoved under into the air pocket beneath the sea-worn wood. "Close your eyes." And Jason pulls Tim closer and into his chest, shielding his face, not even giving Tim the chance to do it on his own. Tim feels like a child, and is briefly supremely annoyed with him, then the explosion rocks and Tim’s not exactly complaining. Even with his face forcefully tucked, Tim can still feel and hear an explosion. Not a big one, but it definitely would have taken out a small car. 

"There's your distraction, let's GTFO." Tim is absolutely seething. "This was not anywhere in the plan!" They're keeping their heads above water and the going is slow, Tim's leg is absolutely killing him and honestly it's getting kind of hard to stay up. Every kick is sending spikes and knives of pain down his leg regardless of the fact he’s not even using that leg. Hood is suspiciously quiet, and Tim was never much of a yeller, so it ends there Tim doesn’t have the energy to scold Hood anymore. 

Yelling never did him any good in the past anyway. Besides, they didn't have open lines, maybe Hood found something that he couldn't take, but certainly couldn't leave. Tim's guilty of blowing stuff up for similar reasons, so he really can't say too much, but where was the warning? "Yes, does someone want to inform me of just what that is and why there's now calls out for cops and ambulances headed for the docks?" O does not sound pleased. Oof, Tim would hate to be Jason right now. But Tim certainly doesn't want to be Tim right now. 

He needs to get out of the water, his energy is flagging, and his leg hurt before, but the water currents even through the gauze are excessively painful. It's going to get infected. And Tim is going to have to steal some strong antibiotics off of someone, maybe Jason or Leslie. Leslie is already suspicious though, so preferably Jason. 

Tim is still going over logistics of getting his hands on a stronger set of antibiotics when he chokes on water and bobs. They're almost to the end of the docks, can almost get out, but his body is tiring rapidly. He bobs again, and this time chokes on water. Tim's spluttering draws Jason's attention. Jason, who is already out from under the dock. 

Tim tries to kick harder, but there's a lot of drag. He still wears a cape, and right now that's a bad thing. The swim has barely been twenty maybe thirty feet and he's already flagging. Jason sees this time when Tim goes under. Tim's starting to get a little frantic now, kicking his one good leg harder and stroking almost flailing his arms for forward or upward motion. Tim still doesn't surface, panic kicks in and he presses the emergency release to get rid of the cape. Not something they like doing, but this isn't the first time Tim's taken a dip in the Gotham water, he designed an upgraded failsafe just for this reason. 

It releases, but it's wrapped around his legs and no amount of flailing and twisting is helping. It's dark and Tim is seriously starting to freak out now. His body is weak and isn't listening properly anymore, and he's choking. There's blood in his mouth and he opens it to spit it out, but takes in Gotham water instead and chokes, taking in even more. The cape is finally off his legs, and he's making some progress to what he hopes is the surface when a strong arm grabs his bondolos and pulls up. Tim's still choking when his head breaks the surface. 

"Jesus Replacement, you aren't supposed ta drink th' Harbor in one go." Jason's voice is the voice of angels to Tim. It's rough and gravelly, sounds pretty pissed actually, but Tim can't really find it in him to care right now. Not while he's still struggling to draw a breath even as Jason is towing him to shore. His ears are ringing and he's still coughing up water by the time Jason gets them to the shallows. Tim immediately crawls to his hands and knees and starts swiping at his nose and mouth, trying to figure out just why his mouth tastes like blood and he’s still coughing up water. 

Jason's hand starts pounding on his back roughly, and Tim wants to know who came up with that idea, because it doesn't seem to be helping. On the contrary, it hurts. "I'm good, 'm good." Tim manages to choke out, his voice is hoarse and honestly if Jason sounded like that Tim would insist on staying at his safehouse through the night to make sure he doesn't dry-drown or something stupid. Yep, Red Robin, survives traumatically losing spleen in desert, dies of dry drowning after brief spill in Gotham Harbor. "Tha's good. Not convincing, but we gotta go 'fore the cops show up.” 

Tim can vaguely pick out the ruckus from the boat behind them, but Jason's hauling him to his feet and dragging him along. Tim stumbles and almost goes down when he puts weight on his bad leg, but Jason switches sides and pulls Tim’s arm over his shoulder to support him. They make it out of sight of the docks without any fuss, there’s a lot of focus on the ship, where Tim can see a fire. It’s not a huge fire, not an actual threat to anything, but enough that all the ABC outfits are going to get calls. 

If there was anything suspicious on the boat hopefully it pops up somewhere O can find it. “Think we can hoof it to your safehouse on 3rd? O’s out, helmet ain’t set up for Harborside fun, so cut the crap.” Tim’s thankful for Jason’s help, his leg is on fire, streaks of lightning zinging up and down his leg originating from his thigh, and trying not to pant too hard. “Should be okay, that’s only a few blocks, is it worth the risk of being spotted?” Because yeah, don’t exactly look good for vigilantes to traverse the street while injured. 

“My phone’s toast, so unless we wanna boost a car we are SOL, Red.” And no, let’s not. Just no, Tim doesn’t need to add accomplice to car theft to his bad luck streak tonight. Tim’s seen Jason do it before, but it was Two-Face’s car so neither one felt bad about it. “Should be fine to make it, just a flesh wound.” That’s a lie, Tim has no idea if the bullet is still in his leg, if it nicked him or if it just tore through, the only thing he does know for sure is that the bone isn’t broken. That is good, because the femur is supposed to be one of the most painful bones to break, and Tim doesn’t really need that. 

The safehouse is just over a mile away, there’s so much that goes on at the docks that this safehouse was the first one he purchased, outside of the Perch of course. It’s not that far, especially with Jason’s help, they’ve got this in the bag. “If we see a cab though we are so catching that shit.” And Tim can’t argue that, they’re both tired, sopping wet, and it is a cool spring night. Add possible cold to the list of things Tim has to worry about in the near future. Damn spleen.   
The rest of the trip is made in a companionable silence, interrupted by short stints in the alleys to hide from an incoming fire truck and two cop cars. Tim’s panting hard and shivering by the time they make it to the safehouse, and Jason is starting to sound a little winded himself. They make it inside and Tim immediately heads for the shower, cranking the heat as high as he can. 

It’s an unspoken agreement, the injured person gets first dibs on the shower, while the other preps a first aid kit and maybe some coffee. Fingers crossed on that one. Tim closes the bathroom door and locks it behind him. First glance in the mirror and holy shit, that’s blood on his face. Another freaking bloody nose. As soon as this whole stupid WE situation is handled, Tim is going to have to make changes, can’t be leaking blood everywhere all the time. He doesn’t even remember anything hitting his nose or anything that could have irritated it, so it’s all the suppressants fault. Tim turns the shower as hot as it goes and strips his gear and leaves it in a pile on the floor. By the time he steps in, the water is still on the chilly side, but it’s warming up. He takes a fast shower, making sure to suds up the bullet wound three times. 

Under all the Gotham grime, sweat and blood, Tim is relieved to see it’s a simple nick, didn’t take much more than some fat on the inside of his thigh, an inconvenient location. It will take longer to heal than the outside, it’s high enough up that walking normally, not the weird hop-skip thing he was doing home with Hood’s help, will prolong healing time unless he’s careful about wrapping it. The hot water feels heavenly, and Tim hates the thought of getting out, but a knock on the door reminds him he isn’t here alone. 

“Time for all good birds ta fly home.” Jason’s customary ten-minute knock is enough to make him want to throw a tantrum and cry in the solace of the awesomely hot shower. But Tim knows Jason has no qualms about breaking down doors if he thinks someone is injured on the other side, so it’s best if he gets out on his own. Tim shuts off the water in silent acceptance and towels off roughly, he slides on new boxers, carefully finagling it around the wound, and considers pants for a few seconds before deciding those would just be coming off anyway so Jason can help stitch him up. A shirt goes on next, then Tim quickly swaps out the old scent blocker for a new one as his last step before leaving the warmth of the bathroom. 

Jason is waiting for him in the kitchen, kit open in front of him with disinfectants spread around and a needle already threaded. He looks up at Tim’s entrance. “Wanna get started while I thaw my bones?” Tim nods and gets to work, grabbing a hand towel to lay under his leg, Jason stirs something on the stove one last time and leaves to shower. Jason takes notoriously fast showers, so Tim has maybe five minutes to clean this wound to his standards. He hurries through, starting with the peroxide, letting it fizz and burn before patting it dry with some sterile gauze. After the peroxide he dumps a healthy dose of alcohol on it and almost passes out from the pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more thermo homework and an exam this week, so I have no idea what my updating schedule will look like, I might update more, I might not update until next week. Who knows? Certainly not me. Follow me on Tumblr @homeforthemissingandthelost for possible schedules. I'll check this chapter over for more errors later, feel free to let me know if you see any.   
> As always, comments are much appreciated!


	15. Tim's Bad Day comes to an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim patches himself up after a rough day. Jason helps. There's also hot chocolate. Some realizations happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings that I can think of? Apologies for weird non-science happenings

Tim has the wound cleaned and is working on the last few stitches when he hears Jason comes back in the kitchen, can feel him hesitate just outside the room for a moment. The hesitance is odd, Jason normally has the personality of a bull in a china shop, thrashing other people’s opinions and quite often comfort zones and shattering them, particularly with the Batfamily. Tim doesn’t say it in a mean way, just in a stubborn way. Jason has opinions and he will be heard, he enters rooms in a similar way, demanding attention or making a dramatically stealthy entrance. So this hesitance is new. 

Tim watches him closely from the corner of his eye as he finishes the last stitch, blood-slicked fingers pulling the thread taut to snip the loose end. The wound is still weeping blood, he is still slowly dripping blood onto the kitchen’s cheap linoleum floor. Jason doesn’t pay him any mind at first, instead going to the pot on the stove and stirring it again, his scent gently wafting through the room, making Tim realize Jason isn’t wearing his scent blockers anymore. 

Not that it is exactly surprising, Tim has to remind himself, this is one of Jason’s safehouses, he’s probably fairly comfortable in this space. Not enough so that his scent has seeped in though. Another glance up from his stitches and Jason is stirring the steaming pot, Tim had noticed the slow steam spiraling off of it shortly after Jason left the room, but hadn’t paid it much attention then. Jason has a tendency to cook after patrol, along with being a real-life zombie and a truckload of issues, the Lazarus seems to have forever leveled Jason’s appetite to be that of a teenaged boy, endless. 

Tim cleans up the suture kit, not paying Jason’s presence anymore mind. He makes sure to drop the needle in disinfectant again before putting it away. Some ointment and a bandage and he should be good to go. If it is still seeping blood at the apartment it might be a good idea to add a cup or two of blood to his system. He probably lost a cup and a half from the bloody nose earlier this morning, for a normal person there is no way he would have lost that much, but the kerchief he keeps on hand is one he designed to be super absorbent. It can soak up about half of a cup before it starts dripping, and his nose had dripped all the way out of the meeting and to his office. Add that in with this wound and he is probably close to or just over the amount in a blood donation. Nothing overly worrying, but as a vigilante something to pay close attention to, don’t want to have a small amount of bloody wounds to add up to cause problems. Getting lightheaded is just not on his docket. 

Jason is pulling jars and a cooking implements out of cabinets while Tim still works. They work in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Tim clearing the suturing mess before continuing the bandaging process, and Jason stirring haphazardly measured ingredients into the mystery pot. Jason has a tendency to stress cook; Tim hopes this is less of a stress cook and more of a comfort cook. Nobody likes taking a dip in the Harbor, the water is perpetually cold no matter the time of year, and it still being early spring, it held a bitter chill that even after a shower is still seeped into Tim’s bones. 

Tim goes back to treating the wound. He’s got a long, loose t-shirt that ends just below the wound, so it’s pulled up to the bottom of his boxers on the one side to properly view the wound. It’s not shyness that drives it, but more of a comfort for Tim. Wearing big, baggy clothes has always had a soothing effect on him, and if he has to sit here in Hood’s safehouse after the day he has had he deserves something nice. 

Tim is half sitting half standing to best reach it. He’s no Dick, he can’t bend his body every which way and stay balanced on the chair. The wound is already looking a little inflamed and red, gentle prodding reveals a warmth radiating from it that promises trouble. 

Tim grimaces at the thought. He’s going to have to go to this stupid doctor’s appointment and hope that all the Board wants is a blood test or something. An actual overall physical might be hard to get away with. Although Tim’s makeup skills have greatly improved, if he doesn’t give the doctor something to look twice at he might be able to scrape by just fine. Infection would be a problem though, and by the looks, it’s already forming a problem. Once he finishes up here and Jason lets him leave Tim will clean it again and start a round of antibiotics. Which are tucked nicely in Jason’s first aid kit. Maybe if he asks nicely?

Clink. Tim is brought out of his head by the sound of a mug being placed on the edge of the table closest to him. Jason gives him a pointed look before pulling up his own chair next to Tim. Tim pulls it closer and can’t help the excited hum at the realization, Jason made him hot chocolate. Jason is a renowned hot chocolate maker, the only one of the robins Alfred passed the recipe onto. Tim can’t help but contentedly sip at the sweet, chocolatey goodness. 

He knows he’s making some stupid face by Jason’s unimpressed snort, he looks up, ready to grump that Alfred’s hot chocolate recipe is worth more than gold, but thinks twice about it, of course Jason already knows that. Instead Jason is scooting closer to him, the chair scraping loudly against the floor to take a look at Tim’s thigh. “You done been bribed Red, fill your trap n’ lemme take a look yeah?” The warmth in the gruff Gotham accent paired with the hot chocolate is enough to make Tim want to melt, dignity be damned, and allow Jason closer into his little bubble to look at the stitched wound. 

As Jason steps closer, his scent wafts closer to Tim, and he gets noseful of gunpowder and pine, Gotham smog clinging to his edges. He smells slightly concerned, kind of determined. And if that’s how Hood is feeling, then it’s much easier for him to just sit back and let him do whatever it is he needs to do then to argue him. Tim discovered a couple months ago helping people helped calm the Pit, and if the Pit is the unknown reason Jason pulled him for the stakeout in the first place…better to not fight it. 

Tim keeps himself busy, opting to continue sipping at the hot chocolatey goodness that’s thawing his very soul. He’s not looking and misses the way Jason’s brows furrow in concern as he checks the stitches, carefully prodding the skin. 

“Lookin’ a little peaky already, fuck knows wha’s in th’ water Red, keep an eye on it.” Jason’s hands are warm and firm, practiced in their work as they start spreading ointment over the stitches, and Tim tries to hide the shiver that runs up his spine at Jason’s warm tone, his warm, calloused hands so gently working on his thigh. 

His inner Omega is preening at the thought of this Alpha taking care of them, this Alpha which has already pulled his ass out of a few fires. The Alpha who lets him crash, takes care of him, makes him hot chocolate when he knows Tim has had a long day. He tries not to sigh at the caring words and lean into the gentle touch. But hey brain, get with the program, just because you’ve stopped taking suppressants does not mean it’s ok to go after the nearest Alpha that probably does not even want you, would probably be just as quick to throw you away once you’re no longer helpful, just like everyone else has. 

“I've got a tab with Leslie and work in the morning, got any antibiotics I can steal in case it starts looking worse?” Tim sets the almost empty mug down to watch Jason work, he is already starting to wrap his leg, careful to smooth extra ointment on and a small square of gauze to help keep the stitches from tugging. “Can do tha’ Red, kin have ‘em to you by tomorrow afternoon. Whadaya do ta get on Les’s list?” Score. It would work better to start them tonight, but Tim will take what he can get. Clean the wound again tonight and early tomorrow, again in the evening should be okay. 

Tim tries to think of a response, honestly it’s more of what hasn’t he done to piss her off. Ignored her calls, her requests for follow-ups with the few wounds he has gone to her with, snuck off with loads of antibiotics, painkillers, IVs, blood… the list goes on. Tim grimaces at the reminder and makes a mental note to make another donation to her clinic. “Snuck in and stole a bag or two of O negative.” Tim can feel Jason’s confusion, can almost smell it. “Why didn’chu run by th’ cave? Don’t B still got tha’ weird blood storage complex?” 

And yeah, Bruce used to have blood stored for each of them, but Tim truly doubts they still have some stored for him. Early on in his Batman career, Bruce had Lucius and some universities study how to preserve blood for longer than a month, and the method they use is not yet FDA approved, it also means they can donate their own blood and stock it for a bad day. It’s good for up to six months, and if that six months is a bad run, making it not wise for them to resupply the blood bank, then Bruce would either get some O neg off of Leslie or use someone else’s blood, so long as they were compatible of course. O neg, unfortunately, can only accept O neg, not any other type.

But Tim hasn’t been back, and he hasn’t restocked his supply since before Bruce left in the time stream. For all he knows Bruce has switched over to just solidly having a small amount of O neg, the universal donor, stocked up rather than keeping a liter or two for each of them. Storage wise it would make sense, and it had been in the plans before he left. He’s not sure if the switch ever happened. He’s not about to go back and see either way.

Tim vaguely feels Jason wrapping his leg, almost done by this point, and thinks back to his own storage, he’s got some left, and it probably wouldn’t hurt anything for him to top his tank – and whoa wait. What’s left is from Leslie’s clinic. It’s not his blood. A lightbulb goes on and he can hear his brain making ding-ding noises. It won’t be contaminated by suppressants. 

In blood clinics, a note is made on the bag if the donor is on suppressants and which ones to avoid donor-recipient problems, Tim always makes sure to grab one that doesn’t have any marked, married couples for example, typically don’t stay on suppressants, they’ve got someone to suffer through heats and ruts with. Some people just try to avoid them anyway, not liking having to take a pill or shot with all the technology out there now, apps just for pairing people with ruts and heats together. And clinics for that too, but the hookup apps are slowly killing that industry. 

Jason is done wrapping, is carefully putting away what is left of the supplies while Tim thinks on this new possibility. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but maybe if he gets back and he uses some of the blood left not all, don’t want to worry about taking too much, then maybe it will help fool the blood test or hormone test or whatever. Not a lot, just enough for Tim to slide under the radar of normal suppressants. Surely some of whatever tests they run fall under HIPPA laws. 

Tim’s never had to worry about this, and it is a complete gross oversight on his part, something he will definitely research afterwards. There is no such thing as overprepared, and while that opinion often got him labeled as an overachiever, it has never failed him. Right now though, he needs to cut his chase and get to the Perch. Some sleep would be a good idea, especially with the Board pulling the crap they are right now. 

“You done wit’ tha’?” Tim is pulled from his musings, Omega in him sitting a little straighter at the full attention of the Alpha across from him, the one gesturing to his now empty mug. “Yeah, thanks for the help.” A lame gesture to his still-propped leg garners a smile from Jason. 

“Notta problem, thanks for oversight tonight, you good to make it to your place or are do ya wanna hitch a ride?” His brows are pulled up, a playful smirk gracing Jason’s features, and Tim can’t help but think of his Robin. The one he followed as a kid, the stack of photographs still tucked away of this exact smile, and he doesn’t have it in him to turn down the ride, even though that means Jason will officially know the location of his most secret safehouse. 

***

Jason drops Tim off at the door, stays straddling the bike even though he wants to formally walk Tim up to the door, make sure he gets in ok. He settles for just watching and listening for the door to bolt behind the limping Bird, he’s gotta feeling if he walked him up Timm’d be offended. Sad how common a sight it is, Jason can’t help but shake is head to rid it of all the times he has seen Dami or Tim with limps or other injuries. Dickie and B are grown adults ta make their own decisions and suffer their consequences. 

Ain’t nobody gonna question a full-grown Alpha ‘bout their injuries, not unless they’re willing to possibly insult them, and not many are willing to do that when it comes ta someone built like Dickie and B. Dami and Tim on the other hand… Jason remembers well what it was like ta be dodging concerned questions from friends and school officials alike. 

The best he can do is make sure they get taken care a’ proper-like. Set ‘em up to lick their wounds and rest for a bit. Jason’s already got plans to take up part a’ Red’s route, with whatever he’s got going at WE and wit’ this new wound, Jason will feel better not having him on the street for the next couple a’ days. Ain’t ‘cause he’s a ‘Mega, but because Tim’s got enough on his plate. 

Just listening to B try to get O to hack WE to get the full transcript from the meetin’ was enlightening. Jason knows the little Bird’s got it all under wraps, WE and Red Robin, but Tim’s also mentioned goin’ for a GED. Something Tim had mentioned casually and brushed off late one night, stitching up some a’ Jay’s bleeders, but something he held onto. The recapping of all the projects Tim had open and running from O was astounding, on top of WE and studying… it’s no surprise the kid ain’t gotta life outside the cape. 

Once on the road proper, Jason hails O, once again grateful for Tim’s tech that always calls on the road. “One injured Bird dropped off inna Nest O, mark it.” He can hear her fingers tapping away at the keys. She got awful quiet after the docks, he has purposefully not put a comm back in just to avoid the lecture and questioning she’s gonna wanna follow up with. 

“Was that explosion really necessary?” Her voice is snarky and she does not sound happy. Jason huffs, ain’t nothing he can do bout it now, the crate he’d blown up was just that. A crate. Nothing of importance, just something ta cause a distraction. It had weird numbers on it, compared to the list he and O had been checking, anyway so better for no one ta use it than the bad guys. 

Jason had hoped to sneak a sample off but Tim asking for a distraction was not a good sign. Timmy doesn’t often ask for distractions, and for him to admit he had taken a hit had certainly put things instantly perspective for him. Not another Robin. No one else is gettin’ killed or maimed while Jason is still kicking. If that means blowing up evidence, then it means blowing up evidence. 

Before O can really get started on her tangent, Jason interrupts. “Is there O neg at the Cave?” He can hear her straighten, no doubt a little concerned now. “I thought you said you dropped him off for the night Hood. Is he hurt?” Jason ignores the segue entirely. “Answer the question O.” 

If there isn’t he is going ta be pissed. Tim shouldn’t haf ta be hauling supplies outta Les’s cause the Bat ain’t got any. It says somethin’ concerning with recent knowledge if it’s just cause Tim don’t wanna go to the Cave injured, and if that’s the case, then Jason’s gonna double down on making him feel safe somewhere. Red needs some place he feels safe, and Jason can understand where a cave full of angry/brooding Alpha scent would be one a’ the furthest things from feeling safe. Tim seems plenty comfortable letting him patch his hurt ass up, for whatever bizarre reason, and Jason ain’t one ta look a gift horse in th’ mouth. There’s more tapping in his ear and he knows O is checking the health supply list, and then a pause. 

The pause is telling, it feels guilty. “Red Robin hasn’t restocked his supply since the last time it went out.” Jason grits his teeth, and B ain’t felt the need ta restock it. Jason can see how that would not help Tim’s situation. The Bats have been vaguely trying ta pull them both back in, and now that Jason is more in than out, they’ve started focusing on Tim. But if they ain’t even got blood stocked for ‘im, how the fuck do they think they’re gonna convince him ta go to th’ Cave for help? “Thanks O, will add my report ta the computer soon.” Jason ends the transmission, effectively hanging up on her. She tries to hail him again but he ignores it. 

Fuck the Bats, Jason’s gonna start his own stock, just for him and Tim. They won’t have ta go beggin the Bats for help if’n they ever need it, with the added benefit of pissing the rest of them off. Jason changes lanes, next stop, Les’s clinic, she always did have a soft spot for him. Maybe she will help him out now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know time is moving really slow in this story, but it is picking up. Poor Tim is on a serious bad day run, it's going to turn into a bad week, poor dude. Jason's having some realizations, and they're goin to be important later. If something in the science sticks out and bothers you, let me know, I'll see what I can do to fix it. I'm not a scientist or in the medical field so fair warning.  
> On a more personal note: my internet is failing. I've had to go to town to upload simple document homework assignments, so updates might be slower. I'm really hoping not but it's a possibility. My classes are coming to an end and the most stressful part is basically over, so hopefully there's not anymore week long absences, there might be one during finals week two weeks from now though.  
> Thank you guys so much for the comments, they really help.  
> Please leave comments! Let me know what you think! If there's something that bothers you, a science wrong or misspelling or something, feel free to hit me up!  
> I'm @homeforthemissingandthelost on Tumblr


	16. Jason stops by a clinic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's got a day to just be Tim Drake and study, while Jason kicks down a certain Dr. Leslie Thompkin's door for a little talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Life happened. Good news is it looks like its settling out again! Fingers crossed, but I should start updating again in a timely fashion.   
> Thank you guys so much for all the kudos and kind comments! I never thought I would break 100 kudos, and now I'm close to 500. I'm glad y'all like it so far and thank you!!   
> This chapter is definitely on the shorter side, it fought me the whole way through. I'm hoping once I start writing again it flows easier. As always, please let me know what you like what you think in the comments, and feel free to follow me on Tumblr @homeforthemissingandthelost

Last night was rough, but today is productive. Hopefully, Tim thinks, bouncing a pencil up and down between his teeth while looking over details on the debrief for last night's shitfest at the docks. Again. Tim is still so grateful for waterproof makeup and that it has been a few days since Jason's brush with Fear. Between the fact it had been a few days and the vestiges of the makeup either Jason didn't notice or Tim got lucky and he didn't remember punching Tim while high off Fear toxin. Tim certainly doesn't blame him, but knowing Jason, he would definitely blame himself if he knew. Whatever the case may be, Tim isn't looking that gift horse in the mouth. No thanks. But there is always a trade-off in his life, things with Jason have been running smoothly for awhile, but things with the rest of the Bats haven't been. 

A glance at his phone reveals a half dozen texts and calls from Dick, two from Bruce, and an email from Babs. He opens the one from Babs, the rest can wait, besides that, they are all probably complaining about how little he has given them on Pru. He sends a polite but empty email back to her, saying it did not involve Bat business and where it crossed, he would intersect, thereby nullifying any need for more information on the topic. 

Tim knows he is being particularly obtuse, and that he is being kind of dickish about the whole thing, but damnit his frustration and stresses add up and they really don't need to know any of this, it really doesn't affect any of them anymore. Pru is a halfway point to Ra's, and Ra's is no longer infatuated with Batman, or even his grandson, but with Tim. And while it is a horrifying thought, it is also a comfort. They will be safe and won't fall. Tim has seen too many fall and leave, so this is a better alternative. It's a topic Tim doesn't like to think too much on, but unfortunately there isn't much for him to do right now. 

WE won't let him back in to work or accept any work from him until they have decided he is in "good health and sane of mind." And Jason, the snitch, updated Tim's medical file moving him to back-up only. So Tim is left with casework. 

There isn't much for him to do today, and he feels like he is losing his mind to the slowness of it all, so once the email has been sent, he studies for the GED test. He has already made it through the Math and English sections, and so long as he reviews them briefly every day they should be fine. He plans to start with a review then start studying for the Social Studies section. The last thing he wants to go over is the Science portion, which should be a breeze with all the work he does now as Red Robin and in the R&D section of WE. 

Jason is also supposed to stop by with some antibiotics, he must have been low on his own supply if he is actually just going to hit up Leslie for it. But that's not for a few hours yet, and Hood always shoots a text before showing up, so Tim isn't even wearing scent blockers. The skin is starting to get irritated again, another thing to make note of, another day, another problem. 

Yes, today might not be productive for Red Robin, but it might just be productive for Tim Drake. He should get some major studying in, and between it being officially 24 hours since his last suppressant dose and the cup and a half of untainted blood he added when he got back last night he should be fine with the doctor's appointment scheduled for early tomorrow morning. So Tim kicks back and studies, there's nothing else he can worry about right now. 

***

Jason shows up to Dr. Leslie Thompkin's clinic in civvies. Well, technically civvies, but for him that doesn't change much from his normal get-up. He wears an actual biker's helmet instead of the hood and leaves the Kevlar weave, but keeps the jacket. He doesn't look like he has been waiting long when she finally waves him in, leading him to a room that Jason recognizes as the set-up just for Bats and co.   
"

Alright, I'm busy today so hurry up and out with it." She's not looking at the young Alpha who followed her easily down the hall. That never spells anything good. She's already pulling at a suture kit when he starts talking.

"Wait, no Doc, I'm not hurt," She stops, luckily before she has opened the sterilized pack, to stare annoyedly back at him. "Well then, out with it, I'm a busy woman."

He shuffles kind of awkwardly for a moment before taking a solidifying breath and meeting her eyes.

"The antibiotics you gave me-"

"That you took," she corrects absently. An embarrassed shuffle, "yeah, those, I am out and just wanna replenish the stocks 'fore anything happens, ya feel me Doc?"

Leslie's brow furrows, Jason is lying to her, "Lovely try Jason, have a seat and tell me the truth before I drag it out of Bruce."

He sits easily on the patient bed but stiffens considerably at the mention of Bruce, she notes idly. It's not the reaction she anticipated, normally he gets huffy like a toddler.

" 'S that what ya told Timmy, too? Didn't use ta take you for manipulative, Doc."   
The accusation paired with the sudden comeback of the Crime Alley accent makes her take a step back. The accent only comes out now when he is super comfortable with people, stressed or hurt.

Before she can respond he continues, a seriousness to him she hasn't seen in him since he first approached her after becoming more sane.

"I do what I feel is best, you are both his wards and with your nightjob it is in the best interest of everyone involved that Bruce have an up to date file." 

"I kin tell ya nothin' drives us further away, if that's your goal then congratulations." Well then, Jason is in a particularly talkative mood if this is the direction he is taking this conversation. 

"It's not my job to play mediator and I am busy besides that, in case you haven't heard there's damages to the clinic being attended not to mention my normal patients. If you won't tell me what it is you need more antibiotics for, considering what I've already given you, then I'm afraid you will have to show yourself out."   
There's a possible case of appendicitis, two bone fractures, and a suspicious case of hives waiting for her, today is not the day to be obtuse and difficult. Honestly the whole family needs to learn how to not be brooding and petty and she is not paid to run between them. Leslie is a doctor, not a therapist. 

"Tim took a dip in the harbor, had a small wound, nothing big but it was already lookin' kinda rough." Whatever Bats did to piss both those kids off was not her business, but neither is she paid to be their dispensary, that stuff has to be marked used somehow. But there is a particular edge of roughness and anger in his voice that keeps her listening rather than just brushing him off this time. "Figured it best ta just run 'im through a week o' antibiotics ta be onna safe side." 

"That should be my decision and you should have brought him here for me to look it over." 

"Kid don't wanna ask." Jason leans closer to her, " An' ah'd like ta know why he don't wanna stop by, but if all you do is threaten to put Bruce on 'im, ah can see why he don't feel comfortable comin' in no more." Leslie honestly feels rather like a broken record at this point, a not uncommon plight against bullheaded vigilantes. 

"Bruce ought to kn-" Jason interrupts her, something she can only recall him doing one other time, when the Pit still rode him hard and his eyes glowed radioactive green at her. But they aren't glowing this time, green-flecked blues solidly meet her judging gaze.

"Bruce ain't gotta know shit Doc, and we both know it." His eyes and demeanor haven't changed, a remarkable improvement from the last time she saw him riled up about something. Leslie is temporarily shocked into silence and can only watch him as he deflates slightly and takes a few, deep calming breath to calm down.

"Look Doc Leslie," Jason's voice is gentle and soft now, and the title and name throws her back to a spirited, little, red-headed lad chatting her up in her office during visits. "There's damage 'tween us an' a Bats, an' you're making it worse by reporting back ta him or just threatenin'. I just found something out about Tim."   
Jason looks away and pauses a second as if sorting his thoughts, and Leslie feels a bolt of fear drive through her, she hasn't heard of anything that should concern Jason like that, surely they would go to Bruce with it if it were major, but the fact Jason brought it to her means it's most likely medical. Good lord these men need some common sense, at least whatever it is, Jason knows and has decided to make it his business, the stubborn fool will hopefully make sure whatever it is, it gets taken care of properly.

" 'e didn't tell me, found out, an' it made me realize he don't feel he can come to any of us, including you. So I understan’ ya don’t wanna lie to B, but Timmy ain’t even legally a Wayne no more, he’s emancipated now, and we both need ta know we can come to ya for help.” 

Jason’s standing now, a stark reminder that freckle-faced kid she used to know grew up into this tally, burly Alpha. His face solemn and serious, he continues.   
“Damnit Les, B ain’t even got blood stocked for ‘im. I’m not asking ya ta lie if he comes asking-” 

“Just not tell him then?” Leslie interrupts, a new understanding of the exact degradation of the boys’ relationship with Bruce, but “and who is going to cover those costs, you certainly aren’t paying with your money.” Because Leslie has seen and dealt with a lot of blood money, and sleeps better knowing if it isn’t.  
“Nah, Timmy’ll cover any expenses, but yeah, you got th’ point.” Jason steps out of her space a bit, giving her a much-needed moment to think. So whaddaya think, Doc? Gonna gimme a hand here?” 

And you know what, Leslie never liked the idea of all of Batman’s young robins getting pulled along the nightjob, so long as she’s not asked to lie she can probably work around it. Considering it appears that the two middle robins are now supporting each other, and clearly Tim is good for Jason, has helped level his sanity, throughout the whole interaction she never once saw the Pit in his eyes or felt threatened by his presence, than whatever is up with Tim, Jason will probably take care of. And if not, hopefully the fools realize it before it becomes a serious problem and bring it to her in a timely fashion. 

Leslie heaves an exasperated sigh and asks, “Just some antibiotics then?” 


	17. Actions Have Consequences, Even When Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason stops by Tim's to give him antibiotics, Tim forgets some face makeup to cover a bruise. Jason has a guiltfest and decides Tim's better off without him, Tim thinks he is a dumbass who will eventually come to his senses

Jason has always respected Leslie, but sometimes he really does not understand her ethics. Hopefully this little talk clears some things up, it would be nice to not have to worry about Dickie or worse, Bruce, stalking them down like prey every time they get hurt. Jason shoots Tim a quick "where you at" text on his way out to his bike from the clinic, antibiotics tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket. 

Leslie helped him while he was on the streets before Bruce, and for that he will always be grateful, but by fuck ain't there like HIPAA laws or some shit against sharing medical information, even if it is family? Shit ain't right, sure there's a sense of respect between Old Man Bruce an' th' Doc but for fuck's sake there oughtta be some sense of privacy too, and here's hoping she understands that. 

It was a risk telling her Tim has a medical condition of sorts that had him concerned, but it shoulda woke her the hell up from whatever sand dune she was sticking her head in. Patient confidentiality is a thing for a reason. Just as Jason kickstarts the bike, a text comes in, confirming that Tim is at the same safehouse Jason dropped him off at last night, so Jason heads there. 

***

Once he parks his bike, he shoots Tim a text to let him know he's there. Jason has always appreciated a heads-up before someone enters his place and has always tried to reciprocate Tim's respect for his privacy, but now knowing he's a 'Mega he is going to put forth more effort to not intrude on him. Don't wanna accidentally overstep some bound, heaven and hell both know Tim won't say anything if he does. 

Jason feels his phone buzz a notification before he makes it across the street to knock on the door. The door opens and Tim invites him in easily, closing the door immediately after he's inside.

"Hey, Jason." 

Tim's got on some comfortable looking, red, flannel pajamas and a black nerd t-shirt that has two flasks bubbling and "You're overreacting" in some weird Comic Sans lookin’ font. But that ain’t what caught his attention, what has is Tim's face. His eyes and the bridge of his nose are bruised, in later stages of blue and purple. 

Jason's eyes narrow and he tilts his head to get a better look, this is older than last night, too far along in the healing process, he reaches gently towards Tim's face. Tim, who is staring very confusedly at him. "What?" And Jason yanks his hand back, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and looks away briefly. "Your, uh, face is kinda," he gestures to his own face, following the horizontal line from eye, to nose, to other eye. "Bruised up." One of Tim's hands flies up for a second, the other holding a mug of what's most likely coffee. "Oh. Oh yeah, it happens. You got the antibiotics?" There's a casual shrug and a what-can-you-do hand wave, but that's also a deflection Jason notes, but that's not uncommon for Tim. 

Little weird because Tim stayed in a lot this weekend, didn't patrol much except- oh shit. Jason had a go-around with that Fear mix, and if Tim didn't get hurt in the fight... Dickie didn't mention Tim getting hit, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything, in a fight ya can't have eyes everywhere, but Tim went home alone with Jason. That opens up a possibility, a theory that Jason really hopes is wrong, Jason could ask, but Tim would just try to deny it, bluster through it, or blow it off, and none of those options are okay with Jason. He wants to ask, "didja get caught by the assassin B and Dickie won't stop jabbering about?" But refrains, he doesn't want to think about the answer. 

If Jason hurt Tim, then the least he deserves is Tim’s anger. The fact that Jason is an Alpha and Tim is a ‘Mega just makes things ten times worse. But not now, if he confronts Tim about it then he ain’t any better than Dickie and B. If Tim don’t wanna tell him where it came from then he won’t, the least Jason can do is respect that. And burn that safehouse. He’s got the money for a new one and he ain’t gonna stay in a place that’s been tainted with a ‘Mega’s pain, caused at his own unwitting hands. 

Maybe later he can ease the topic up lightly, but not now; now Tim is peering at him tiredly from down the hall, lips quirked up in amusement.

“You just gonna stand in my doorway or come in?”

Well, with an option like that, Jason ain’t gonna turn it down, maybe try and whip something edible up outta Tim’s empty cupboards and feed ‘im. According ta B and Dickie somethin’ big went down at WE and they’re actually making Bruce come in for th’ work. Not that it’s bad or anything, B definitely needs to step up and take care a his own company, but it doesn’t sound like it spelled relaxing vacation time for Tim. 

The further inside the apartment they get, the more secure and homey it feels. It sets Jason’s instincts aflare. It feels a lot more lived in than it looks from the outside, not uncommon for safehouses, but the extra security measures on the front door, having both an automated locking system and deadbolt, spells a truly secure safehouse. While the living room set up includes a couple gaming systems, a big screen TV and a newer looking couch with a thick quilt draped carelessly over the back. Also, Tim’s stayed here enough that his scent has seeped in, honey and cream a little thicker than it should be for a Beta. 

This… this is more than just Tim’s safehouse, it feels like his home. Jason’s chest spasms at the realization. There are minor differences that speak of a heavier defense system, windows that don’t open and that honestly look like bulletproof glass than the vintage single pane they replaced, Tim’s scent, Jason has also spotted two sensors and a camera since walking in. There’s honest-to-god picture frames of what looks like the Clone, Tim, and Bart, ones of Dick and other various vigilantes, even a couple of himself, ones that he didn’t even realize had been taken. There’s also a couple with what look like civilians, some with Timothy Drake-Wayne, Brucie and Lucius. This is Tim's house, possibly where he even spends his Heat. 

It feels uncomfortably like a home, and if Jason was the one what bruised up the ‘Mega ahead o’ him, he has no right to be here. Tim never should have invited him in, should have kicked him out when he hurt him, and called Dickie to deal with his drugged-up ass. Anger and determination well up in his chest as hurt forces a golf-ball sized rock down his throat, someone needs ta make sure Tim feels safe, that he ain’t gonna be around people what only hurt him, and Jason being one of those, now both Pit-crazed and not, it shouldn’t be him. What the actual fuck. Why haven’t Dickie or Bruce stepped up to help him?

Even now as Tim turns right into a kitchen and settles in to sit at a table in an adjoining room, Jason can see the exhaustion, can see the tension in his shoulders, the pain in his limp and the wrinkled brows, the squinted eyes shadowed by purple bruises. Tim is tired, and in pain. His Alpha rears in response, a ‘Mega what’s constantly under literal gunfire and brimstone wearing 'imself down, he’s gonna die one of these days. And Jason isn’t so sure that Tim cares at this point.   
He didn’t call for backup with Jason and whatever the fuck happened that night, whatever Tim didn’t tell him, he ain’t going ta B or Alfie for medical, even admitted to him that going ta Leslie was something he avoided doing… this ain’t okay. 

Flashes of the Pack Dynamics book fly through his mind, he can picture the words describing what slowly happens to a packless Omega. While ‘Megas can survive without physical pack bonds signified by bites like with mates or even live alone, they gotta have contact with others or their mental and physical health starts to deteriorate. A weakened immune system is the first physical sign, feeling weak, loss of appetite, eventual depression, and in some cases, it can even end in suicide. 

Pack bonds ain’t gotta be romantic or familial, there’s plenty of platonic bonds like what Jason’s got with Roy, Artemis and Bizarro, but fuck it’s really starting ta look like Timmy ain’t doing half as well as everyone thinks, and Jason has no idea what to do about it. 

Jason calmly takes a seat across from Tim, who is sipping at his coffee, pulling one foot up to rest on top the other knee in a relaxed and confident looking position. Ok, deep breath, hold it, release, don’t be obvious now. Do what ya can do and think on it more later. Ok. 

Jason sets the orange pill bottle on the table between them. “Th’ Doc sends her best.”

Tim snorts as he reaches out to snag the bottle, popping the top and taking a pill. “Doubt that, what’d she really say?”

“Had a bit o’ an interesting talk with her actually,” Tim straightens a bit, one eyebrow twitching to show interest and surprise. 

“Yeah? And how’d that go for you?” 

And here’s the sellin’ point, Jason can’t make Tim go see a doctor, suggesting it would both give up the goose that he knows and would piss him off, so maybe gentle persuasion and Tim will work it out on his own. Kid can run a multi-billion-dollar company, surely he can figure out when he oughtta talk to a doctor. 

“She didn’t realize we are both on the outs with the Bat,” Tim opens his mouth to argue but Jason holds up a hand. “It ain’t a lie, neither of us exactly wants ta crawl back ta B an’ the Cave for help.” Tim’s mouth shuts and he nods his head once in acquiescence. “So’s she ain’t gonna give us trouble or alert B if’n we need help.” 

“What’s the catch?” Tim’s business voice is firm, somehow judgmental, and sounds like an old wizened man who knows someone’s trying ta double deal. 

“You gotta make th’ payments, not me. She don’t want my money. Hell, I don’t want it and you know that, but yeah. That’s it.”

“Just like that?” A cynical brow raise as Tim leans back in his chair, looking for all the world like someone just tried ta sell him the Golden Gate Bridge. Disbelieving and amused. 

“Just like that.” Jason tries to inflict the sentence with his own confidence, Doc Leslie is good on her word unless there’s real concern, like, coma-level concern. Jason has faith in her, hopefully Tim does too. However he’s making his scent and behaviors come across so neutral, while none of Jason’s business, is a health concern, and hopefully he has a doc backing him somewhere, if not, hopefully he will seek out Leslie. Even if Jason finds that unlikely, Tim is supposed ta be the smart one, he likes ta think Tim would. Jason’s handed him the tools the best he can, but it’s time for him to go. He tells Tim as much and they start heading for the door. 

Jason had planned to stay longer, but the longer he sits and stares at Tim’s bruised face the more the guilt eats at his stomach until he can feel it burn up his esophagus. He doesn’t want confirmation, Tim would deny that it’s Jason’s fault, tell him that he has a Catholic’s guilt complex and he don’t wanna hear it. He will ask later, but Jason’s already hurt Tim before, he should really be the last person to try to start bonding with Tim, even if it’s just a platonic bond like what he’s got with the Outlaws. It’s more than he deserved, Tim oughtta feel safe, and there’s no way Jason’s Alpha presence could make him safe. Time to find someone else for the job and duck out with dignity. 

***

Tim knows he has messed up as soon as he opens the door to let Jason in. He won’t stop staring at Tim’s face, and for someone trained by not only Batman but the League, he is anything but subtle about it. Not only will he not stop staring, but Tim can smell his scent turn to protective/worried Alpha, and that’s the last thing Tim needs at this point. He still isn’t too sure if Jason has any suspicions and he plans to keep from giving Jason any other pointers to his actual caste. 

Tim had planned to touch up the makeup to hide the bruise, but had completely forgot lost in studying, until Jason texted him, and by that point there wasn’t enough time. The Perch is inside the triangle formed by Dr. Leslie’s clinic, Crime Alley and the Bowery, and WE, so about a ten-minute drive. Tim isn’t overly surprised to hear Jason and Leslie had some sort of talk, it’s no secret the two were pretty close before Jason died, but he is surprised to hear the offer of medical extended to him. 

Except…well Jason does seem to find helping others therapeutic, and Alphas tend to like to do it with family and friends so really, Tim probably should have seen it coming. It’s a nice idea, and maybe something he will test soon, he really ought to figure out what antibiotic spectrum he should keep up with now that he is spleen less. But sitting there watching Jason as he talks, he can see him fidget and get uncomfortable the longer he’s there, still staring at the bruising around his face, and the jig is up there. 

No doubt about it Jason’s figured out he accidentally hurt Tim. Jason’s already reeking of guilt by the time he leaves, and while Tim thinks he’s a dumbass for it, he is just grateful Jason isn’t Dick or Bruce. Forcing him into an awkward conversation about how he should have paid more attention to his surroundings and not slept while someone else was sleeping off a toxin. Jason’s guilt will wear off eventually, Tim files it away for future reference. Tim’s not exactly innocent in the accidentally-hurting-people tab either, and this would be a perfect example for when Jason tries to pull a “I should fly solo” act. Vigilantes can perform solo, but they always need a back-up plan. A topic for another time, for now it’s best not to push Jason, it’s why Tim and Jason have the friendship they do, because they respect each other’s boundaries. For now, Tim will let Jason run from the conversation, there’ll be time for that awkwardness later. 


	18. The Dreaded Appointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreaded doctor's appointment. It goes smoothly. Tim's only halfway through his day when things go sideways. Turns out he is missing that Family Dinner tonight.

Tim waits anxiously in the sterile waiting room, elbows resting on his thighs by his knees, head tucked down. He has on a baseball cap pulled low over his brow and his most beat up pair of jeans, a worn graphic tee, and a pair of beat-up DCs. He looks like most other people his age now, and honestly, it’s nice. 

Even though the whole situation is stressful - especially as he is trying not to catch the eyes of anyone who could recognize him - it just…is really nice to have been able to go through his closet and pick up his most worn in, comfortable clothes and not worry about his appearance as CEO Timothy Drake-Wayne. 

The roughed up jeans are from his skateboarding days, the happy times he had spending hours every week at skate parks, but since taking on all the responsibilities of WE, and everything else in his life there just hasn’t been time. Tim hasn’t managed to skateboard anywhere since Bruce was declared ”dead”. He was too busy mourning, then trying to find Bruce, and when he got back, taking care of WE. Skateboarding is not an acceptable hobby or transportation for a businessman. 

But pulling those memory filled jeans on this morning… the emotions sucked him under like a riptide. Rolling him through happiness and nostalgia, with a sharp and unexpected twist of sadness and resignation. 

Bruce still doesn’t seem to want to take back his company, so there’s not much hope he will be able to skateboard again until he sneaks out to the Titans in San Fran. The thought of visiting his friends sent a thrill through him, being able to chillax, knowing they’ve still got his back, no matter what. 

But now, in the waiting room, the outfit helps put him at ease. Almost as much as wearing Red Robin costume at night. There is something undeniably nice about being able to walk around and act his age, even if it is only for today, just for a few hours. Maybe Jason’s right, maybe he really is just a pretender. 

Always pretending, pretending to the Board, pretending as Red Robin, a position he forced his way into, pretending even now to be some random teen and not Timmy Drake-Wayne, CEO, and of course, not pretending about being a Beta. Tonight, he will be pretending with the family at the dinner. 

The Family Dinner, that Brucie had strong-armed him into when cornered at WE with a bloody nose. Timmy Drake-Wayne, CEO of WE, has a fantastic bond with the rest of his family. Red Robin will always come when they call. But little Timmy Drake died in the fire and brimstone that he wasn’t shielded from. 

Damian being the literal brimstone, constantly wearing at him, just like life and the many deaths of close friends and family he had watched, while the fire being the dangerous lifestyle he had pushed himself into, thinking he had a reliable set of safety nets. Well guess what, safety nets wear out, and that’s what happened. A few calls for help unheard, an assurance and certainty Bruce was alive cast away as insanity, the last thing keeping him sane as he’d told Dick, ripped from him. 

Safety nets didn’t exist for Timmy Drake, he had died in the fall, Timothy rose like a phoenix from his ashes. He created his own safety nets, contingencies. So many he is prepared for everything and its alien cousin. 

Safety nets are a thing for other people, Tim has made himself a safety net for the Robins, for the Titans and any other vigilante who fights the good fight.  
But safety nets, they need maintenance, people need to feel like they can ask while the task is still small, before it spirals into a world-threatening catastrophe. Catastrophes are so much easier to fix or help when there is a knowledge of the storm brewing, like preparing for a hurricane versus arriving on scene to an earthquake. 

In this case, maintenance is attending a dinner. Showing up and proving he is healthy and alive and available to help if someone finds themselves in a scrape. Especially to Bruce, after the whole bloody nose incident. No doubt there’s a lot of gossip going around at WE about it, just to make it worse. 

The dinner had almost slipped his mind in the wake of the stress leading up to this doctor visit, but a text from Jay confirming he would be there was his literal wake-up call this morning, the thing that woke him up. Even if Jason hadn’t texted him there had been an alarm on his calendar. Tim had texted back promptly, Jason looked kinda sick and hella guilty last night, better to assure him a simple bruised face wasn’t going to keep him away from the dinner, even if he wanted it to. It was rather nice to have a reminder from a person who was not Tam.

It gave him time to rearrange his mental schedule. After the visit, he is going to have the doctor’s note faxed directly to Tam and HR. They will figure out who and how it’s supposed to be filed. Make an appearance at WE, he has a suit pressed and ready at the Nest, then prep for dinner tonight. Making sure to wear the protective undersuit for Red Robin just incase of Demon-brat attacks. 

The attacks have significantly decreased in the last two months, but nonetheless as much as Tim wants to think it’s personal development and Damian is adapting to non-assassin life, it could just as easily be a ploy to win his trust, and clearly neither Dick nor Bruce would do more than kindly ask him to stop, so there’s no protection there. 

The surprising factor of that is Jason. Jason is the only one who actually scolds Damian for acting destructively or rudely, Alfred and his dry wit can only do so much against someone trained to withstand torture. And hadn’t that conversation been a sad and enlightening one. Damian honestly didn’t know better when he got here, and while he is slowly improving in most aspects, there are some that he has not grown much in. Namely, sharing Bruce. Tim isn’t taking that risk lying down, thus the undersuit. It would be more but it’s dinner, where Tim is driving himself and can leave at any time, and there is both Dick and Jason to buffer. Dick doesn’t do much, but it’s still something. 

Plan for the day mentally outlined and complete, Tim looks around again. There is nothing currently for him to do and it’s making his skin itch. He’s already reviewed some GED questions on his phone, planned out his day, and now there’s nothing to do but wait. 

The situation with the doctor is out of his hands now, his blood shouldn’t pop up anything alarming, if it does, his white blood cell count will be more of a concern. The bullet wound is still bright red and inflamed, starting to show warning signs of delayed infection despite the fact he has cleaned it religiously every four hours, so he’s wearing black boxers, the longest pair he’s got to cover the wound and the thin gauze covering the stitches. It’s a simple check up, shouldn’t have him stripping down to more than his boxers. It’s also sorer than he thinks it should be, but it's an injury, it's going to be sore, gaging the appropriate amount of hurt an injury should have is not a science. The same injury in a different spot is going to hurt more or less than it would in another spot. Injuring a rib versus injuring a finger. 

He checks his wrist watch again and frowns, it's ten minutes before his appointment time, would now be a good time to go up and ask about paperwork? Tim had gotten here twenty minutes early, just in case of bad traffic or something, but it's been so long since he's been in, shouldn't there be paperwork or something? It’s been literal years since he's last gone to a doctor. Definitely while Jack was still alive. Yeah, it’d be for the best to check. 

So Tim gets up from the uncomfortable chair and nervously approaches the front desk. His hands are clammy and sweaty, they feel like they're shaking, he just really wants this whole thing to be over. 

There's a middle-aged man of Asian descent busily clacking away at a computer and taking calls at the desk, his nametag reads Devon. Tim shuffles his feet, and after waiting a long moment, he clears his throat quietly. "Excuse me-" 

"Yes, how can I help you?" Devon briefly glances up at him, but continues working and doesn't pay him anymore direct mind, seemingly either not recognizing him, or not caring enough. Tim really hopes it's the former not the latter but will take either reason, he doesn't want anymore attention than necessary. "Um," he begins uncertainly, "I have an appointment with Dr. O'Malley."   
"Mm hmm, name and date of birth please," in the same bored tone, honestly the man looks pretty tired, but being in the medical field in Gotham can't be easy, poor guy. 

Once Devon has looked him up, Tim is given a clipboard with a bunch of paperwork to fill out. Tim goes back to sit in the uncomfortable chairs to fill it in.   
Tim cruises through the first multiple questions, they're generic. Age, weight, height, name and then... caste. His heart pounds at the realization his caste will now leave a paper trail, something easy for anyone else to pick up on. He skips it, maybe they won't check it, all kinds of things get lost in the endlessness that is paperwork. Tim doesn't struggle through the paperwork as badly as he thought he would. All those horror stories about how difficult paperwork is for insurance and doctor visits and it’s just another day in the office for Tim, thankfully. 

Tim fills out the rest and hands it back to Devon. Who flips through it briefly, and then stomps all of Tim’s hopes out. “You’re going to have to fill out your caste, we need it on record, also you haven’t filled out who your caste-specialist is and we need that too.” Well there went any hope of keeping this out of the Bats’ range. This place looks dingy enough it will stay on paperwork and not hit a network, surely there’s gotta be someway he can get out of putting it down.   
A thought blooms, and Tim discreetly hunches his body to appear nervous and a little scared, and doesn’t immediately take the clipboard, drawing Devon’s attention to his body language and face. 

Tim looks at the floor embarrassedly, shuffles his feet and mumbles, “I uh…is there anyway I can keep it off?” Looks up into Devon’s annoyed face and dials his acting up to a hundred, quickens his breathing and leans in a little. “My, uh parents see… they uh… don’t know yet.” Eyes watering, figure bent defensively, voice hushed and worried, a backwards glance to the door and waiting room and – Sold! The guy goes from irritated to understanding and mild alarm. 

“Oh.” Hook, line, and -. “I assure you I will lock the paperwork and will keep it off the networks, but we still need it for legal reasons.” Shit. Well, off the network is better, shouldn’t be worth the effort when an official doctor’s note will be going to WE anyway. Tim knows he can’t hide his caste forever, but he sure can draw it out as long as possible, until he is better able to handle the fallout. 

Tim knows there is a disconnect between his parents and their world view, and the view the few people he’s heard talk have, people like the Titans, briefly once or twice Dick, some talk in highschool. 

Tim knows his parents were bigoted, they didn’t think Omegas should have places of power, much like the sexism that used to be rampant against women. That view of both women and Omegas hasn’t changed too much, there’s never been an Omega mayor, but there has been a woman mayor. Honestly she lasted longer than the two previous mayors so kudos to her. But that still doesn’t help the fact he actually needs to research the Gotham and worldview of Omegas. 

Seriously, next project as soon as this mess is sorted. Before Ra’s makes some sort of evil, dramatic presence and throws his secret around like the weapon it is.   
So Tim accepts the clipboard, and swallows hard at the damning circle he draws around the O. “Recently presented, don’t have a specialist yet.” He clarifies with the now somber and full attention of the nurse. He hands the clipboard back, Devon doesn’t even glance at it, but reaches out of Tim’s sight and hands him some pamphlets. Tim can see “home situations” written across one and knows what it is. Tim feels bad for making this guy feel like he worries for his home, but Tim needs time. 

So he accepts the pamphlets, tucking them into his back pocket, where they’ll stay until he pitches them at some random, mid-city trash can. “It’s gonna be okay, this info stays between you and your medical team.” Tim tries to loosen up, to look relieved by the information, but knows by the way Devon’s nostrils flared that some of his real anxiety about his situation bled through his scent. 

He’s got the weaker scent blocker on, and having stopped his suppressants, it bleeds through much more strongly than he could compensate for without giving it away he wasn’t on legal suppressants. “I’ll just run this paperwork right off to him and Dr. O Malley should be ready for you soon.” Tim just nods as the man shuts the bland manila folder, full of precious secrets, and scurries down the hall. 

Tim returns to his seat and waits. Checks his phone, checks his emails, and manages a little more studying before his name is called up. 

***

The appointment is normal, a nurse takes his weight, temperature and height, leads him to some non-descript room and takes his blood pressure, confirming no medications. When asked about his suppressants he blushes and stutters through that he can’t remember the name. She nods non-judgmentally and asks him to call it in later when he is able so they can update his information. The only seemingly not run-of-the-mill thing she does is take a sample of his blood. Just one vial for the blood test. After which she leaves him with those weird not-paper-not-fabric coverings and asks him to strip to his boxers and remove his scent blockers, the doctor will be with you shortly. 

Tim doesn’t wait long, he’s got the fabric spread over his lap and wrung in his hands, a cross between embarrassment and anxiousness that hopefully looks normal and will speed up the process. Tim doesn’t need the doctor looks too closely and seeing the bruises and scars he’s covered meticulously with makeup. He doesn’t even want to think what his scent could be doing. Not ever really being around Omegas, only ever Alphas, and even then ones with scent blockers, he has no idea what scents are truly like. The closest he’s got is the tower, and when he was younger, interaction with Dick and Bruce, but his senses and nose hadn’t matured enough then that he had really been able to understand it then. So he here he is, in a doctor’s office, faking it til he makes it. 

The doctor comes in abruptly, startling Tim momentarily. Dr. O’Malley is a short man, and that’s saying something coming from Tim. Like, Tim’s pretty sure if he stood up he’d stand four inches taller than the guy. Like, almost midget-sized. 

“Hi Tim, I’m your doctor for today.” The blonde flips through some papers, and looks up at Tim, “just a general health exam and note to work?” Considering his stature, the man’s voice is deep, but soothing, Tim nods in response. They run through some typical questions, most the same as the nurse before, but some new, like, “How long ago did you present?” and “it says here you haven’t seen an Omegatrician yet.” 

Tim is peering at the paperwork as the man talks on, rambling a bit to himself. He can just barely make out a post-it note with some sort of shorthand about possible stressed home environment. Tim is both pleased to see it noted and embarrassed. When this gets out it’s going to be a shitshow. 

The doctor pulls up a chair and sits on it before Tim can read anymore, tucking the clipboard under his armpit. “So tell me Tim, how would you feel if I could recommend you one.” Palm raised defensively before Tim can say anything, “I understand you want it to be discreet, just as a reminder, because of HIPAA your caste is not something that will be mentioned in your wellness letter, neither will your blood levels or anything like that, it's just a letter saying I have found no illicit drugs in your blood stream and I clear you for work." Tim feels actual relief, the kind that typically only comes after a borderline grade shows up and he's passed, or when someone's gone down with an injury, but it turns out to be mild. A weight on his chest and shoulders loosens, one less worry. 

"I also have just the doctor in mind for you," Dr. O'Malley continues in the same reassuring tone. "She will handle it with utmost discretion and respect, but you have to go. I’ve already reviewed your blood, and paperwork. Your white blood cell count is not where you should be and you say you don’t have the medical paperwork for it. I will prescribe a series of antibiotics for the two year transition.”

Tim nods his understanding, the doctor is definitely one of those few people who can pull of both stern and comforting. “But just from a brief scent your and your blood tests I am telling you that it is imperative that you schedule an appointment.” Wait what. His levels cant’ be that bad.

“I’ve presented recently, shouldn’t they settle out?” Tim interrupts. The doctor glances at the paperwork again, briefly enough Tim knows he is remembering the numbers more than actually reading them again.

“You are overstressed, exhausted and your levels are out of the normal range. I am clearing you for work, and will have someone fax it to whoever it needs to go to, under the condition you make a doctor’s appointment with the specialist.” 

Well that slaps. Tim nods his head in understanding. “Okay I will," Tim accepts the business card Dr. O’Malley is holding out to him. “I will call and make an appointment. Thank you so much Doctor for making time to see me.” **** ~~~~

The doctor stares hard at Tim for a moment, judging whether or not he thinks Tim will follow through, and sighs. “I’ve got other appointments, this city truly never sleeps, but make sure you see someone. One of the nurses at the front desk should have a help packet for you to help keep you under your guardian’s radar, whoever they are.” Oh thank god, it doesn’t sound like he recognizes Tim. “If you don’t have any questions for me, I will see you in a few weeks for a follow-up on your antibiotics, have a good day.” A polite nod of his head and the doctor leaves. A little more awkwardness and the whole sitch will be behind him and he can return to destroying the Board over this nonsense. Finally. 

***

Tim finally escapes the concerned nurses at the desk with a literal bag full of pamphlets, numbers, and other such paraphernalia and exits the medical building. Before he can be relieved that the most stressful part of his day is over, the hair on his neck stands up and he feels eyes following him. Tim makes it to his car without problem, even makes it within three blocks of the Nest before it happens. 

Tim is at an intersection, going straight on a fresh green, when a pickup truck slams into his car from the oncoming lane. The airbags go off, his hands were too high and he feels one wrist fracture, then he hits the airbags hard, managing to smash through and still hit his face on the steering wheel. Before he can manage to do more than try to untangle his arm to open the door, it is yanked open. He vaguely registers the seatbelt being slashed, but he can’t see well, he can’t breathe either, the stupid powder from the bag is all over. Tim knows better than to assume the person is there to help him, but he can hope. The blob that must be a person pulls him out, but before Tim can get a breath of fresh air, he feels the sharp tip of a needle puncture his neck. The world rapidly fades into a disconcerting black before he can do more than tap the emergency alert on his watch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, i want to thank everyone for all the kind comments and the kudoes. Because wow! this has blown up! I'm so happy other people enjoy my writing! I never thought this story would garner this much attention. I have long hopes and dreams for this story, it's going be a ride guys.   
> Also, oops? Long time no see? but hey! I'm back hopefully? Sorry to leave this on a sort of cliff hanger?   
> Life's hectic, started my job back up and my class in two days, have moved back and forth between my apartment and my house six times since my last update, and other various stresses. Good news is that now that I have an excuse to be locked up in my room doing homework, I should have time to squeeze in more writing.


	19. Hide and Seek: Where's the Ivy and the Red Robin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is awkward, everyone sulks in silence, Bruce broods everywhere. Alfred is cool. But Ivy has escaped and now Jason is getting ConcernedTM. Hurry up and answer Tim.

The awkwardness and tension is almost so strong as to be a visible force in the Wayne Manor dining room. All the stops for family dinners had been pulled, a set of matching china instead of just regular day-to-day glassware. The floral designs stand out to Jason as a stark reminder of just how easily broken or chipped the pretty bone china is, much like the family. 

Being a vigilante, it forges bonds stronger than any other, but also so much more explosive. Forged like Titanium, sharp as Obsidian, but as explosive as Potassium in water. With trust comes the ability to break that trust, and in this job, broken trust can easily lead to death. And tonight? It just might. 

Timothy's death to be more specific. 

The little fucker swore he would show up for dinner. Up and down, of course I'll be there, wouldn't leave you hanging, haha man, you know my relationship with them is on par with yours, I'll help you stay under B's radar if you help me with Demon, yeah? 

Well, FUCK YOU TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE. How dare he. An abrupt, swift image of Tim’s bruised face interrupts his rage, then he just feels guilty, but Jason forcefully shoves the guilt down, he can feel that later, when he's alone, or preferably in a talk-therapy sesh with Roy, Artemis and Biz. If Jason’s learned anything, it’s how to turn any emotion inta anger, the most useful emotion. 

Jason had showed up tonight, right on time, as par for the course when Alfie is involved, just like how he and Tim had agreed. Alfie is a saint and can do no wrong in both Tim and Jason’s opinion. No way is Jason going to do anything intentionally to get himself on Alfred's list. That man is scary. And also still the most positive influence Jason had growing up. The reason he can cook and fend for himself, unlike - ahem, certain others (i.e. the whole rest of the Bats). 

Moral of the story, Jason got here at the appointed time, as he and Tim are wont to do, and Tim wasn't here. 

Fucker left him hanging high, more offense is taken by that simple betrayal than if Tim had sold him out to Scarecrow any other B-rate villain. So yeah, murder on the brain. Jason is valiantly trying to ignore the elephant in the room, being Timothy's absence. The whole reason for this whole shitshow and he can't even show up. Ain't no way he forgot; Jason reminded him this morning. Jason tries to shove the bubbling concern down, and is only mildly successful as it morphs straight inta anger and irritation, funneled by the Pit which is starting ta kick up a fuss. 

Jason is trying to hold back his temper at dinner, but his hands are clenched around his silverware a little harder than they should be, when he sets his crystalline glass of water down, it makes a delicate 'chink' noise that gets the Mildly Annoyed Alfred Expression, so Jason tones it down by deciding not to pick anymore glassware up. 

No need to upset the Butler, by far the most dangerous man in the room. 

A quick glance around reveals everyone else seems to have similar issues. Even Dick's usual cheerfulness is toned down, his smiles looking more forced. As is usual at these functions, with respect to Alfie, everyone eats first before someone starts a snide remark. Alfie did not go through all those long hours in the kitchen for this fantastic 3-course meal to go to waste. No way could everyone survive a 5-course meal, as Alfie wants to make.

It was a long written rule, spats and discussions were to be held after the main course is eaten, not a moment before or suffer the Alfred Stare, ranked above the Annoyed Alfred Expression, putting everyone at the table on a list of tedious and pointless chores for days, until Alfred had decided the sentence had been served or the issue was worked out. As such, no one has kicked up a fuss yet, but Jason can feel it in his bones like a cold, winter storm a brewing. Tim don’t back outta dinners on such short notice without letting somebody know what’s doing. It’s a little outta character, and with whatever health issue he is having, causing big-ass, bloody noses in Formal Business Meetings. Jason’s Alpha is concerned, Jason is just annoyed. (That’s a lie, it’s hard not ta be concerned for Tim, but Jason doesn’t have to admit that to himself yet. Yep, nothing ta see here folks.) 

The silence is frosty, conversation forced during dinner. Dick is trying to entice Damian into conversation about school, or animals or anything in an attempt to get more than a few short sentence out of the boy, but the only thing it seems to be doing is irritating the Demonbrat more. 

Thankfully, these attempts are interrupted by Alfred, who is putting the first desserts on the table, an apple pie with ice cream, some weird pudding-y looking cake with a poweder-y brown topping (Tiramisu, Tim's voice supplies, a whispered conversation about weird desserts when Jason admitted he didn't remember any of the fancy names of desserts he had tried before he died). And like a red flag to a bull, the Bullshit starts as soon as the dishes hit the table.

And of course it's Dickie, pulling protective Big BrotherTM card. "So...has anyone heard from Tim?" 

"Gee, if I'd a known he was gonna ditch do ya really think I'd a come?" It comes out a little harsher than Jason intended, it wipes the dredges of a polite, forced smile off Dick's face, making both him and B stiffen. 

"Well, I had hoped to have all of us here tonight, it's been awhile." 

"No shit, he must not ah wanted ta come after whatever stupid hoops WE made him jump through today." A pointed glare at B, he needs to quit acting like an ostrich and pull his overinflated head outta the sand, kid don't need to be the main acting CEO when the real thing is sittin' there. 

Jason knows he’s making the sitch worse, and if he is being honest, he was already a bit...shook up... even before he got here. The whole thing last night, seeing Tim's bruise and knowing it probably came from his own hand fucked him up a bit. Jason has learned to seriously appreciate the non-judgmental help Tim continues to offer without fail, but the lack of self-preservation is a problem that Jason has only recently truly started to notice and care about. Jason refuses ta be anothe’ actin’ force against him. Tim’s worked hard, lost his pound o’ flesh to multiple enemies, and that ain’t what Jason’s tryin’ ta do no more. So this new understanding is alarming. 

Two months ago he wouldn't have been worried, he thought that Tim had more than enough people in his corner, but the closer the two got, the more Jason sees that it just ain't so. Tim's people are all still floundering and scattered after the Clone and speedster came back, and the Bats are hardly ever on great terms with each other. 

Jason just hadn't realized how much Tim had struck out on his own, he knows Tim has him on a higher priority list for emergencies than the rest of the bats. That one phone call from an urgent care comes to mind, where Tim had told the medical team to contact Jason when they refused to release him by himself. But now, now that Jason knows better what's doin', he's got rights ta be concerned. Especially if Timmy is slowly slippin' inta the depression and shit that comes with being packless, or even just with Suppresants, that shit fucks with you when it's as strong as what vigilantes have to take. 

Jason's scathing retort has Bruce opening his mouth for a placating remark of some sort no doubt, when Alfred reappeared, and cleared his throat.  
Perfect timing Alfie, Jason don’t wanna hear the same sorry excuses anymore. 

"Commissioner Gordon is on the line, Master Bruce." 

Ok, well that doesn’t sound good. 

Bruce glares a second longer at Jason before shutting his mouth and giving Alfred his full attention. "And whatever did the Commissioner want on a weekday, with Brucie Wayne?" To anyone else, it would have just sounded uninterested, but Jason can hear the annoyance in it. Not only has Bruce not managed to corral almost all of his wayward, fallen children, but now his dinner is interrupted before he can properly attempt to defend his stupid reasons for not taking WE back. 

"He wants to know what preparations are in place for protecting the Martha Wayne Community Food Garden, as it appears Ivy has escaped Arkham." Well shit, that might explain Tim's absence. 

Everyone is standing up and out of their seats at Ivy’s mentioned release. Jason is shoving a last big bite of warm, apple pie in his mouth before heading to the coat closet. The rest of the Bats collectively head downstairs, but Jason makes sure to stop at Alfie's side, a quick hug, so short Alfred doesn't have the time to react to it. 

"Thanks Alfie, a right life-saver you are." Thank fucking god, Jason can get outta here and hopefully kick some ass, get it out of his system before he meets up with Tim. With that bruise so recent, no way does Jason actually want to run inta him while he's still riled up about Tim ditchin'. Musta heard somethin' somewhere and was gonna try and take her down himself, the idiot. 

Bruce is already suited up and at the Batcomputer by the time Jason has retrieved his guns from the coat closet. ("Master Jason, I understand your need for weapons, but they shall come no further than here." Alfie was Secret Service, Jason doesn't doubt he understands, and only loves the man more for not mentioning his security blanket to Bruce.) Nightwing and Robin are just coming out of the changing room as well. "Security was paid off," the Bat's deep, growly voice is in full force tonight. 

"She's been out for weeks, the camera has been looped, none of my alarms were tripped, she has help." 

"Ivy's always worked alone, no need for tha whole crew," Jason pipes in. Of all the villains, she has always been one of the ones Jason relates to. All she wants is for humans to stop destroying her plants. Sure, she could find less violent ways to go about it, but for fucks sake at least she ain't going around trying to murder people like other villains. Toxin ain't fun, but there's antidotes on file, she don't change them, just a couple on rotation. Her whole shebang is ta make her point, and honestly, Jason gets that. Just if there was a better way ta do it than trying to tear down halfa Gotham that would be nice. 

"Red Robin isn't responding." And well, okay, that changes things a little, but not too much. Missing dinner was shitty, but missing this call is starting ta get concernin'. Although Tim had admitted at one point that Ivy was one of his favorites ta fight. Her toxins were more a forceful end to a fight than something truly debilitating like Fear Toxin, and while she didn't care if people died, she wasn't actively trying ta blow the whole city. But if she's workin' with someone, that's a new MO, out of normal modum operandus.

"Come on, we can all fly, it's been awhile since we've done that, and besides, like B said, we haven't heard from Tim." Dick's got his phone in hand and flips it to show everyone the calling screen, Tim's voice pops on. "Leave a name and number." So straightforward and dull, tone flat and deadpan. He sounds like a friggin' old man ready to retire from workin' in Gotham's insurance departments. 

"It's not going to hurt anything to be over-prepared, right?" 

Jason grumbles a little more at Dick but agrees, heading over to take one of the spare bikes stocked here in the Cave. Too much effort and suspicious if Red Hood comes tearing outta Wayne Manor. 

A quick plan is drawn up and spelled out by Bruce, Jason takes his normal patrol route, as do the rest of the Bats, but there's a check-in every fifteen minutes, and if someone finds Red Robin, to call it in as well. "Just because she hasn't done anything yet doesn't mean she won't. It's best if we can find the problem before it becomes a serious threat." Yeah no shit B, let's go. Once everyone has agreed to the stupid call-in thing and the routes, they head out. A little vigilante convoy, the Batmobile taking point, N and Rob in the middle, and Hood as Tail End Charlie. On the way, Jason tries to hail Tim on comms, but it rings out, not in service. Tim's tech is high end, that doesn't spell anything good. Here's hopin' he just passed out somewhere and feel inta sleep-deprived coma and ain't caught up in somethin' Ivy-related or not. 

***

Patrol is a bust. There’s nothing. 

Nothing unusual. A few stopped muggings, attempted rapes, robberies, a car hijacking, but that’s it. A quiet night even, by Gotham’s standards. B went home early, started checking up on the rest of Arkham’s occupants, so far it’s only Ivy missing. Hopefully that’s a good sign, but it doesn’t make sense then for who got her out, and why. 

Instead of being calming, the quiet night is unsettling. The calm before the storm. Something is up, and now would be the perfect time for a residential bird ta come flittin’ back home ta the nest. Jason could use some help. If Tim don’t show up or answer by tomorrow afternoon, Jason’s gonna start seriously looking for him. Even if he’s upset with Jason over the Fear Toxin thing, over the bruise, knowing Tim ain’t kidnapped and bleedin’ out inna alley or worse, ranks higher. Soon as Jason knows he’s safe, he’ll leave him be. Let Tim come ta him.


	20. Ivy and a Red Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy doesn't know who broke her out or why, but she's starting to get an idea when a new person is brought in.  
> Or, Ivy's first time meeting Timothy Drake

Ivy doesn't know why these people snuck her out of Arkham. Not that she is complaining exactly, but they certainly aren't hospitable considering they got her out. Rather the opposite.

They keep her locked in an all plexiglass container, kept locked out of sunlight and anything resembling plants or dirt. All this to keep her weak, the lack of sunlight is weakening to her, not many plants thrive in an environment without sun. Her powers come from the plants, her biology is an intricate and involved mixture of plant and human, more humanoid than human.

Ivy honestly has no clue why she is here, one moment she'd been sleeping, peacefully even for once, in Arkham. The next she was being forcefully handcuffed and dragged down the hallway and out the building. Her captors/rescuers wore some weird, loose garb, typical of the assassins that usually follow Batman and his sidekicks around. Ivy had been confused, she had never been approached for some twisted version of a job, and that's got to be what this is. No one is ever interested in her anymore, except about how she was turned into a freak, how she is now so dangerous supposedly.

She had been led through corridors, shoved through ventilation shafts, and even through a trap door in the floor. A blindfold had been tied around her eyes before she was dropped down the random hole in the ground. Someone caught her before she had fallen more than a few feet, but they didn't put her back down, keeping her from forming any sort of connection with the earth and her plants. With her arms pinned, there was no reason to fight until her odds had increased.

Ivy kept her silence even as the journey continued. On foot for awhile, eventually the gentle rumble of a car, the never-ending potholes making a map across Gotham. Never once did the group speak to her, she didn't even have an accurate headcount, but there were at least five of them. Her arms were still bound, and the blindfold was secure around her eyes.

Curiosity had the better of her, no one other than Harley has ever paid her much attention, let alone done a jailbreak for her. Besides, no plants in a car, nor access to dirt, it would be very tedious to try to escape at this point. So she lay complacent. And now she is locked up like some weird version of Rapunzel.

***

Ivy doesn't know how much time has passed, just that it has been awhile. It feels like months, but probably closer to weeks. She's been given various outlets for entertainment, some books, both fiction and non-fiction, and a TV with a selection of downloaded movies, and even better, lately access to her old scientific papers. Honestly, this place might be better than Arkham.

Sure, it gets kind of lonely without Harley or anyone else, but it is also quiet, a soothing balm to her soul. If only she could get some actual sunlight, some access to plants to study, maybe some letters to Harley, and she would willingly stay here.

It makes her yearn for her life Before. Her college times and studies, her fantastic studies and papers, before she'd been forcefully injected with the very poisons and toxins she studies, by none other than her Alpha partner and lover, Dr. Jason Woodrue.

He documented what he did to her, all of her studies, in progress and those completed, his name was the important one. He erased her as a human, and she is remembered now as some freak, not even Gotham bred.

The assassins, she calls them the Group in her head now, they never introduced themselves or who they work for, so melodramatic name it is. Just small blood samples and such that they then analyzed and marked in funny looking books. She had been able to listen in on what they did, they didn't seem to mind her knowing, and she remembers them deciding her levels were closest to Alpha designation. 

Technically they aren't wrong, her abilities mean she can control her own levels, meaning she can come across as anything she wants to. Most often, the plants and life she surrounds herself in mask anything she normally would have put off anyway, but it's much nicer not to have the instincts and no way to soothe them. Other than that though, the group seemed entirely content to just let her be, to her complete and utter bafflement.

When she had first been locked in here, she had worried for her safety. Cut off from all escape, and constantly drained, they're effectively slowly killing her, and yet they had left her alone. Quite often Gotham dredges up the worst of the worst, she had influenced her hormones and pheromones to give a subtle Alpha vibe, no way is she going to give off her natural scent to a group that literally kidnapped her.

Being Ivy, having the ability to manipulate plants, toxins and poisons, as well as pheromones, means she can come across as anything she wants to. The only person to know her true caste is Harley, Woodrue even assumed she lost her caste during the change. and she had even now a growing sense of dread that they were going to force her to create some harmful substance or risk a slow, excruciating death. But since there's been nothing so far, there's no real reason to fight. The light is weak, but not so uncomfortable as to make an escape attempt worth the effort.

That is, until the day they brought a newcomer.

Now, Ivy hasn't kept up on any sort of news, but this young man is definitely someone important, maybe the son of some elite figure. He is unceremoniously carried into an adjacent room; one she'd noticed but completely forgotten was attached. It gave her another area to be, but it looks like she is going to lose it or have to share it with some uppity businessman who probably deserves whatever fate they have in store for him.

Ivy stays put at the desk they provided her, scientific papers spread out and little notebooks with annotations in them. They've treated her better than anyone else has since she became Ivy, she's not going to tarnish it without good reason.

One carries the unconscious body, one sets up a cot and securely handcuffs the man, a limb to each corner. One last person comes in, honestly the outfits are pretty androgenous so any of the Group could have been male or female, not that Ivy has ever really cared. But this changes things a bit.

Again, back to they want her for something, probably a toxin or poison for unwilling participants.

And Ivy is not okay with that.

They could tell her any sort of lies, and she has no way to back up their claims. First thing you learn in any science class, never trust any sort of information source without cross-referencing. Ivy is not comfortable with torturing people. That was never her thing. Life is to be respected. Something humans are seemingly incapable of doing.

They continue to hover over the man, she can see now as they strip the suit off of him, thankfully leaving the boxers on, that he is definitely very young, a teenager for sure. An IV stand is set-up and scrubs slid on, then they leave him. They close the door to the second room, effectively cutting her space in half, but there is a gap beneath the door, maybe when he wakes they can talk.

Ivy either isn't going to hear about it from the Group, or she will hear a very biased version. This guy looks young, not even an adult, and that completely takes away any willingness she had to work with the Group to harm him. Ivy doesn't hurt children. Hopefully that gap is enough for them to at least speak.

***

It's a few hours later when the newcomer wakes. There must have been some sort of alarm that went off, because immediately there's people in there with him, one of them is dressed in a much more... traditional and distinguished manner, enough intense detail to show his status is assuredly above all the henchmen she's seen. Yep, this poor soul is almost definitely the reason she was brought here.

Ivy isn't about to go about looking nosy, so she will just have to stay put, even though she can't hear what is quite clearly a monologue. The teen looks wholly effected, the expected reaction of someone who has been kidnapped. It's totally believable until about halfway through, then he drops out of whatever act he was holding up and just seems to look totally unimpressed. This one is definitely a Gothamite, no doubt about it.

It doesn’t take long for Ivy to get bored trying to figure out what is going on. People-watching is only so much fun when you can't tell what's actually being said or done, so Ivy loses interest and focuses back on some random movie she hasn't watched yet. It takes a few moments for her to realize it is a documentary about sea life, not some weird ocean movie.

By the time her movie is over, the room is devoid of occupants and the lights have been dimmed, presumably for her counterpart’s comfort and not her own. Now alone, she cautiously approaches the closed door, she pushes gently against it to confirm that it's locked, but color her pleasantly surprised, it's left unlocked.

A quick glance around shows that it's just the two of them, there's undoubtedly cameras in here, but it's as close to privacy as she can get without going into the sad excuse for a bathroom, where the glass is frosted instead of translucent. She hesitantly opens it and enters the room.

The strong scent of unfiltered Omega slams into her senses so strongly she physically stops and blinks. A chill races down her spine at the thoughts these men could have for him.

After becoming Ivy, she mostly lost her sense of smell, but pheromones... those she can read. He recently presented, at least within the year, and his pheromones are crazy, either about to go into heat, or just coming out of one. Also could be caused by abruptly stopping suppressants and not having an Alpha around to help the sudden imbalance in hormones. Pheromones released by the Alpha act as signals to the Omega’s brain to start producing and terminating certain production of hormones. Without a buffer, Omega’s suffer the equivalent of a bad cold with an the emotional equivalence of getting hit by a brick bridge.

Ivy shoves down the implications of a young Omega near heat locked in with an Alpha. That settled that, she is getting out of here and dropping some hints off with one of the former robins. She was always fond of the second and third. The second was so alive... so lively and happy, so protective of life. Ivy personally paralyzed Joker with a long-lasting paralytic the next time she saw him. He couldn't move even a pinky finger for over a month.

The third, she doesn't know much about him, other than he liked to listen to her talk. Even instigated conversations, ranging from her plants to her research. The fact that he recognized her as the remnants of a person, and had researched her papers specifically to ask her about her work... the boy is dear to her heart.

She can stop by and drop a hint to one of them, this group won't last long once the Bats know what to look for.

In the meantime, there's an Omega who could use some help regulating his levels, and Ivy is up for the job. Ivy isn’t stupid, she’s not going to startle him awake by trying to touch him. She knows what it’s like to be forced somewhere, held captive and scared, and forced to undergo tests. The boy will come up swinging. So she stays where she’s at, near the door so as not to frighten him when he wakes. Once he is awake and she can ask what he is comfortable with, then she can try to Nest with this poor lad.

Ivy takes a seat, sitting criss-cross, and slowly alters her pheromones. Turning the comforting Alpha levels up gradually, no sense in doing it too fast and scaring him. It doesn’t take him long to wake, and when he does, Ivy knows she did the right thing. He comes up swinging just like she thought he would, body unsure what woke him. Surprise is the most prominent feature, but honestly if Ivy took such a leap off a cot upon first waking to a strange Alpha presence, she imagines her reaction wouldn’t have been near so tame when she was still human.

A first clear look at his face makes her heart clench. There are deep bags under his eyes, a dark bruise is firmly settled across his face, and shaggy black hair reaching down to cheekbones all accent a pair beautiful blue eyes set in a porcelain pale face. Which, actually looks kinda swollen and unnaturally red, looks like he maybe broke his nose, even from this distance, she can see flecks of blood under his nostrils and on his upper lip.

Not only is the damage to his face alarming, but there’s a cast on one arm, and the IV still connected to the other. Looks like he tried his best to get his licks in if nothing else. But that doesn’t matter, what matters now, is befriending him and figuring out just how the both of them are going to get out of here. Someone else can deal with whatever the kid did to get picked up by the Group.

He looks impossibly young and lost, definitely still in highschool. His big wide eyes darting around everywhere certainly aren’t making him look any older. Poor wee one.

“Hi, I’m Ivy.” She coos softly at him from her seat. “I’d like to help you if you’ll let me.” Nobody else has to know just how much more she’s talking about than keeping his levels even keel. A forceful detox from Suppressants is always hard on the body, in extreme cases even ending with extended trips to hospitals. The Group probably wants her to step in here and keep him even keel enough for whatever plans they have for him. Her having all her toxins and stuff, her research was partially into long-term effects of abrupt drops of hormones and how to lessen them. They don’t have to know she doesn’t just mean help him finish detoxing, she is getting him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Ivy's background I honestly googled, three different versions came up and I picked the one I liked the most.  
> Hope you enjoy this one!  
> Next time, Tim's POV  
> Thanks for reading! I hope you all are staying safe out there


	21. Well, crap, Tim's Bad Day has a Reboot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim wakes up and meets his captor, it isn't who he thought it would be

The first thing that filters through Tim’s brain, is the cold restraints on his wrists, then his ankles, finally the hard, flat surface he is laying on. The material on his body is definitely not the clothes he had on before. They feel like cheap scrubs, and Tim would know, he certainly has worn them more than once back in the Cave when he was robin. He keeps his eyes closed for a couple seconds longer anyway though, trying to parse out any other useful information. He can’t hear anybody else with him, so lets out a groan at the strong throbbing of his head and pulsing in his wrist, because no lie, they do hurt, and he isn’t Red Robin right now, he can be in pain. 

Tim was taken as Timothy Drake-Wayne, weakness is to be expected. He pretends to jolt awake, there’s not much that can be learned with one’s eyes closed, and besides, there’s no way he isn’t being watched. He can’t feel eyes on him, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a camera. His captors would have to be stupid to not have at least a camera on him, and judging by the cuffs, they already don’t trust him, so just supporting his hypothesis. 

They didn’t take him as a vigilante, so he needs to act as frightened as he thinks any other Gotham citizen would be. Gasping as if he’d just woken up, jerking upright only to be yanked back down by the restraints, which ow are tighter than he thought, and slumps heavily back down against the bed. Chest heaving like he is edging a panic attack. That would be a normal response to being kidnapped right?

Tim frantically glances around, twisting from one side to the other, as he’d imagine any normal person would. He widens his eyes in panic and works himself up, hoping to make the panic leach into his scent. He’s been off suppressants, so it’s already going to be stronger than it should be, but his skin itches and burns where he has the scent suppressor on, a strong one. Tim can’t quite tell if it has been removed or not, it seems like it has though. The itch is one he doesn’t typically associate with having left it on too long, but rather that he didn’t wipe off the adhesive and residue, the burn is likely from it being peeled off by someone who didn’t know what to use to remove it. 

Tim had slapped it on as soon as he was out of the doctor’s office as some weird over-shooting paranoia, even though he knew it was too late and his secret was down on paperwork, but it made him feel better to have it on. But now, he’s not too sure if it has been left on too long, or if it’s been forcefully removed. And, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s pretty certain he knows who this is, and Ra’s already knows. On the off-chance it is someone else though, he’s better off acting like they know, either way, he will find out pretty quick if his captor's know from the reaction of whoever comes in here first. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, it seems no sooner than he starts desperately looking around, then people in League medical garb are swarming and yep. Called it. There’s at least six of them that descend upon him like vultures, securing a limb apiece, one checking his vitals, one standing at the foot of his cot/gurney thing, and-wait a second. These guys don’t look right, something is off here. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” Who the fuck is this guy? Definitely the head honcho based on his more elaborate garb. The man, and it is definitely a man, hair graying, facial hair shaped in a similar fashion to Ra’s, so someone higher up the chain then, but seriously, Tim’s never seen this dude before. And rude, Tim can’t even sit up, to see him better, forced into a supine position, the Man looms over him, angry and satisfied Alpha exuding his every pore and expression. Tim takes advantage of his closeness to really take in his captor’s facial features and build. He’s a big, built guy, definitely not someone Tim would look forward to fighting when he knows this guy’s got League training and not just throwing around his weight. 

The man’s skin color is a rich tan, atypical again for League, brown eyes, hair is long enough to be styled, but too short to be pulled back, there is an old scar running down his face, starting at his hairline and down almost to his upper lip on the left side, it looks like he barely managed to save his eye. His nose definitely has been broken a few times, is slightly crooked, and a few other scars dot his face. Tim makes note of the distinguishing scars to make a new file once he is out of here. Scars can be hidden or added easily with some of the cosmetic tricks the League knows, but higher ranks wear them with pride. The question here is if the whole League now knows Tim’s civilian identity, or if Tim was snatched for some other reason. 

Tim’s mind starts running like a hamster on a wheel, this isn’t who he thought it was. This could be one of Ra’s lackeys, but if Ra’s had pulled this off he would have been down here to greet Tim himself, to exude his prowess over Tim’s detective skills, while somehow also complimenting him. He would be dressed in the finest of linens, there wouldn’t be a need for restraints. Ra’s and Tim have an understanding about restraints and kidnappings, Tim doesn’t appreciate either, but if Ra’s gets the drop on him there’s not much to be done until he falls into Ra’s hands. Ra’s will pamper him and spill sweet nothings, all lip service of course, because Ra’s wants Tim in a way that makes his hair stand on end, like a warning before a lightning strike. He wants Tim to be a part of the League, to work with Ra’s implicitly and closely, for Tim to be his. He wouldn’t go about it this way. 

The man had given him the time to look him over, eyes locked firmly on Tim’s face in an intense and creepy manner.  
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t a little birdie who has fallen from his nest.” Tim feels a rush of fear run through him, well that answers that, from here out Tim needs to assume everyone in the League knows his civilian identity, clearly Ra’s can’t keep all of his lackeys in line, not to mention how often minor infiltrations occur, even if most of them are murdered for there troubles. The last thing Tim needs is to be ousted as a vigilante, which would quickly turn to a landslide of other vigilantes being unmasked, everyone knows the members of the Bat group run together and many have suspicions they are related, if not close friends, they're too prominent in the media. 

The lackeys step away from Tim, out of his very slim range of sight from his prone position flat on his back. “Let me introduce myself,” the man starts walking around Tim, prowling like the predator he is, and Tim is the prey. It is unnerving even though Tim knows that is the whole point to it, and he follows the man with his eyes, even as he scowls at him, no longer hiding under Timothy. “My name does not matter to you, however you may call me Fahad.” Tim thinks the name has something to do with a big cat, like leopard or panther or something and is supposed to have some meanings towards strength and power. Tim does feel better having something to call him, rather than just referring to him as The Man or his captor in his head, even though he knows without a doubt the name is a fake and will not be helpful whatsoever in hunting him down later or trying to attach case notes to him. 

Fahad continues, voice steady and projected, “Little bird, you have garnered the great Demon Head’s attention, something not many can do, I’m sure you are aware of this.” Fahad pauses at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind his back. “However, that isn’t what this is about.” There’s a dramatic pause and the guy looks down at his feet, taking his eyes off Tim for the first time. “You aren’t the only one to have fallen from the nest.” Oh shit. 

And it hits Tim like a punch to the solar plexus. This guy is either in debt to Ra’s, or is trying to indebt Ra’s to him using Tim as a barter piece. “I have made a grave error,” a hesitation and emphasis on grave, Fahad’s voice dropping and the man looking truly ashamed and stricken. Or there that works too, the guy messed up and is trying to save his own skin, hoping to gift his way out of Ra’s shitlist. Tim can understand that, follow Fahad’s thought, but Fahad clearly does not know Ra’s well enough because this is not going to turn out in his favor. Or, Tim hopes so, he doesn’t look forward to time with Ra’s if Ra’s decides to force Tim into his work. Ra’s should know better than to try, but that was also before he found out Tim’s caste, and for some people, that changes everything. Tim hopes Ra’s isn’t one of those people. This puts an interesting 180 spin on this, either Ra’s is going to literally murder this guy, rip him apart, or he is going to graciously accept Tim as his gift. Either way, Tim doesn’t appreciate the options. The worst thing to do is owe a debt to Ra’s, so even if it would go his way, it still isn’t a good solution. 

“I wish to garner his approval again, but no small gift would do, I don’t wish to further his reason to have me removed, so an extravagant gift. The very thing he wants but won’t or can't just take. You will learn to love him, or you will perish. But that is of no consequence to me, as you will be my gift to him, my proof that I can and will retrieve anything he could ever ask for.” This is not what Tim wants to hear, but there’s hope, it won’t take Ra’s long to notice Tim is gone, and when he does, Tim is pretty sure he is not going to be impressed with someone nabbing Tim, even if it is to gift him to Ra’s, and Tim has to shudder at the implications of that thought. 

“It was so simple, a car accident, a stolen ambulance just so close to on-scene, and no one is the wiser for at least a few days. Why, Timothy Drake-Wayne probably went on a bender, just like his predecessor was and still is known to do.” Fahad leans in closer, his breath caressing Tim’s face in a most disgusting way while the man’s unfiltered scent also invades his inner personal bubble. Yeah, Tim said inner, there are layers to space bubbles okay. 

Tim kinda tunes himself out of the conversation, the guy is clearly going to start monologuing about how smart he is, and Tim has all the important information he is going to get out of this man. 

There’s truth to what this dude is saying, of course there is, but Tim’s alert, even if the watch is gone now, sent a message to Tam saying he’d be late, and to Kon. Pru being involved with the League still means she’s going to know pretty quick, and with her connections, will probably find Tim before anyone else. It used to be Kon who Tim would assume to find him first, but in their first meetup since Kon's resurrection, Kon had cornered Tim concernedly. “Hey Tim,” a hand scratching the back of his head in a nervous tic, making Tim’s brows furrow with worry, he has only just gotten Kon back, can’t the world wait for just a couple of days so Tim can enjoy his closest friends being alive again? “What’s up Kon? Thought you said you got cleared, whats wrong?” Kon drawing back, “Oh no, man I’m Gucci. I just…” Kon shifts awkwardly. “Your heart sounds different. I couldn’t pick you out in a room, or Cassie for that matter.” It had been a problem they’d discussed and come to the conclusion that Cassie and Tim had grown and changed, as teenagers are wont to do, and since Kon hadn’t been around for the slow changes as they took place, they hit all at once. Essentially meaning Kon can’t track Tim unless he knows to listen for him, and even then, only if Tim says his name first. That’s a last resort though. Kon needs time to recover. 

So there’s two allies out, Tim holds hope for Pru, but warning Tim about League stuff is completely different from crashing the League, so about 60% chance she will do something to help somewhere. The alert to Tam means Bruce will have to be called in for work if Tim is missing more than two consecutive days without warning, and that is not by Tim’s choice, but rather WE’s best interests in mind. Someone has to keep the business moguls in line, it’s amazing how fast an industry can fall if they’re left alone. But that will put the Bats looking, maybe. Probably not, but it will flag Jason’s interest. 

Honestly, Jason and Kon are his two real hopes in this. Tim tunes back in, “and that is why you will be the perfect gift.” Still prattling on then. Jason will be angry first that Tim skipped dinner, but after not being able to get ahold of Tim for another day or two after that, Jason should start getting concerned, and this is where the Bats come in. Tim doesn’t expect them to really look, but B being called into the office because Tim isn’t in there will raise even more alarms. Jason will look around Tim’s safehouses, and the alert Tim hit sent a message to his safehouses, when Jason opens their shared casefile to see what Tim was working on, a message will pop up asking Jason to get in contact with some of the Titans, particularly Kon, as something has gone sideways and some help would be appreciated. So Tim only has to hold on for a few days, if he doesn’t get out before then of course. 

Fahad finally looks like he is wrapping up the monologue, so Tim tunes back in, knowing for sure that he should be out of here in three days tops. “And finally, don’t even think about escaping.” Sure, of course not. “I am not delinquent nor slow, I am aware just how dangerous you are.” Fahad leans over Tim, bracing a hand on either side of Tim’s face, on the bars Tim’s arms are attached to in an intimidation tactic, watching Tim’s reactions intently. “We took your abilities into account, and have improvised.” Fahad glances to Tim’s right, where Tim can’t see, and continues. “You see, memories are important, wouldn’t you say so?” 

What. Tim feels alarm race down his spine, there’s magic users, typically something the League gets Zatanna or Constantine to deal with, but they exist. Ones who could tamper with his memory, or erase it entirely. If Fahad has one in his debt, this could be bad. Of course this couldn’t be a simple kidnap and escape, Tim’s timeframe has just shortened. Fahad straightens, smiling a satisfied and twisted smile, “So you see little bird, there will not be any escape for you, you will be a gift to the Demon Head.” Fahad motions and he and his lackeys leave Tim, the lights are turned almost completely off, some really dim setting allowing a small amount of light, but strapped as he is, there’s nothing for Tim to see. 

He can’t help the sigh of frustration. There’s nothing for him to watch, and Tim needs to actually figure out a plan before attempting to execute it. There being nothing to do is a type of mental torture, one Tim’s endured before, but it doesn’t make the process any easier. Tim settles down to start reviewing all his mental casefiles and work back as far as he can remember. He closes his eyes and sinks into his mental library, where everything is meticulously ordered, and fall into a meditative state. A clink and pressure release from around his wrists and ankles brings him back, smart, having the cuffs linked to his heart rate. Tim’s must have slowed down enough to mimic sleep. No point in making his captors aware of his capability, so Tim continues his thoughts, and eventually settles into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... so not Ra's? I thought about having Ra's but decided against it, I wanted something a little more original than Ra's cat and mouse game, I also don't feel I know him and the League well enough to do them justice so here! 
> 
> Also I do apolagize for the delays in updates, I am working the next week solid and still have my biology class I'm working on, so maybe something over the weekend if I finish my schoolwork early? But I really don't know, my schedule is pretty up in the air right now. For step-by-step updates, look me up on Tumblr @homeforthemissingandthelost 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think, what you liked what you didn't and let me know if there's any errors you see and I'll try to fix them.   
> Thank you guys so much for the kind reviews! they've really helped me keep going


	22. Well, that Patrol was a Bust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrol is a bust, but it sets things in motion. Jason isn't sure if Tim's gone because of him, or if his gut is right and Tim needs help. In the meantime, Bruce makes an ass of himself and then makes a plan.

Jason prepares to take a shower, grabbing a towel and some sleep clothes as he mentally goes over patrol. Patrol was too easy. Too easy in fact. Ivy is the only upper level Rogue unaccounted for, Jason didn’t feel at ease until he’d checked himself, prowled down the physical hallways, except the Joker’s. 

Just being in the same building as that twisted fucker made his hair stand on end. Nightwing had made himself useful though and had checked on him for Jason, without even being asked. 

Sometimes Dickie really was on his game. No way was that somethin’ he was willin’ ta ask B or put words to ask the Demon, Jason don’t want him anywhere near the sack o’ shit, which only left Dickie to ask if he had to. Dickie definitely has his faults, but he is a people person through and through, his intuitiveness and insight on people is what makes him such a supportive pillar in the vigilante game and a great cop. 

Though why Dick put himself through the hell and torture that is the Bludhaven Police Department, as corrupt and twisted as it is, Jason doesn’t know. Dick makes a difference there sure, no arguein’ that, but it’s gotta be wearing a path through his soul havin’ ta watch the corruption up close. The more Jason sees in the Bats, the more worried he gets for the Robins, past and present. So yeah, not something he had particularly been wantin’ ta ask of anyone, but Dick did it before he had to, and Jason is grateful for the thought even though the only one in danger would have been the Joker this time. 

So yeah, Ivy’s out. Prolly kicking up some stupid, filthy-rich, no-conscious-having asshat’s grounds, or gearing up for it at least. For as dangerous as she can be, Jason always liked Ivy. He and Ivy tend ta be onna same side of the gray end of the black and white spectrum. So honestly, Jason isn’t as worried about Ivy as he would the other A-and B-listers, the only concerning part is she’s been out for longer than she oughtta been without whatever fuss she’s kickin’ hittin’ the news outlets. The only other villain to have escaped was Condiment King, and god did Jason feel like he lost braincells using that name. 

Bruce and the current Robin found him camped out in the stereotypical abandoned warehouse pretty early on. They had him in cuffs and Gordon on scene before Jason got on site, which really sucked because Jason’s raring ta punch some thugs. Someone deserving of his anger and frustrations, a way to work out the unease sittin’ heavy on his head and chest. 

Guilt surges anew in his chest at the reminder as he steps under the pelting water of his not-so-hot-shower, gotta love cheap apartments. He suds up while thinking more on the situation. 

Not only is Tim missing, but it could all be Jason’s fault. Maybe instead of getting’ picked up by the latest villain-wanna-be, maybe Tim didn’t know how ta tell Jason he don’t wanna see him again? Don’t trust him not ta bruise and bloody him again? Jason used ta think Tim wouldn’t let anyone boss him around, but after hearin’ how he got kicked outta window by Ra’s, Jason’s concerned about Tim’s judgement on who and how often he allows himself ta get roughed up. Jason’s got his fingers on being packless as the reason for his recklessness, and if that ain’t it, well, having someone ta mother over him and worry would do some good. But Jason’s pretty sure that person ain’t him anymore. Jason may have been compromised, but how many times should Jason be given an excuse when he fucks up and hurts someone close to him. 

Once he has rinsed the suds and Gotham muck down the drain, he scrubs himself quickly dry, hoping to keep some heat from the shower to dress with. Exhaustion weighs down his body, and while he would typically do a load of laundry, he only feels up to throwing them in the dirty hamper. 

The fear and guilt he had forged into anger to spur him on through the rest of the quiet patrol wore off in the shower, and now he’s stuck with the guilt and fear that his hurtin’ an already vulnerable Tim is what drove him away. The straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Tim’s a strong and resilient figure. Jason knew this when he first set out to kill him, and has only seen this proven time and time again. But everyone has a breaking point. Jason’s mind flashes back to the post-patrol meet-up at the Batcave. The Batcave because Bruce musta been some theater nerd in a past life and has ta make everythin’ dramatic. 

Bruce called everyone back just past two thirty. Even megalomaniacs have ta sleep at some point. So they met up at the Cave once they finished a final patrol of their divisions, Bruce went back after Condiment King to review all the footage of Arkham. Jason only went back and participated in the drama of a debrief because his bike is still there and he wants the Bats to prove him wrong in their low levels of concern over Tim’s abrupt disappearance. He wants to see ‘em concerned and pullin’ up ideas like Tim would’a been. 

Everyone was already gathered around the Batcomputer when Jason made it in and Jason was grateful for small mercies that he didn’t have ta wait around for everyone else. Just stepping into the Cave made his skin crawl and his brain squeal in displeasure to be around so many happy memories of before he died, since then the Cave is only associated with pain.

Bruce was already debriefing everyone, he was clearly heading conversation, facing the rest of the mishmash of vigilantes that considered themselves Bats. 

“Well done.” Jason can’t help but roll his eyes at Bruce’s attempt at raising everyone’s spirits with a measly compliment when Tim AND Ivy are still missing. 

“Condiment King didn’t even have time to fight back, everyone performed their tasks well.” Bruce looked at each of them in turn. “We will need to keep an eye out for any suspicious Ivy activity, but she will show up soon.” 

“And what about Tim?” Jason interrupts ta cut ta the point. Condiment King is back in prison, so what, he’ll be out in a month. There’s more important problems.  
Jason says as much, and even he can hear the accusation and disgust lacing his tone like poison on a dart. The fact he didn’t even wait for Bruce to get to the point adding insult to injury. 

Bruce holds Jason’s challenging eye contact, “We will continue to attempt contact with Red Robin.”  
Jason’s hands clench in anger at the fact Bruce won’t even call ‘im by his name. Tim’s more than what he can do, and Bruce should care more about his disappearance than a mention of his vigilante work. 

“It’s not the first time he has cut off all contact without warning Hood, and it won’t be the last.” Bruce cuts him off before he can come up with a way to remind Bruce they’re all human. A fact Jason loves to remind him of, all and any of them could die any night. This shit ain’t for fools or fucking around. And B is playing at both by ignoring Tim’s disappearance in correlation with Ivy. His disappearance shoulda been enough to get some serious gears greased and rolling. 

“He’s right,” Dick straightens up and walks closer, making Jason realize he had stepped closer to Bruce, and was poised to spring, whether to attack or flee, he didn’t know, but he made a conscious effort to relax his stance some. 

“Tim’s been known to disappear on his own. He’ll pop back up.” 

And although Dick is defending Bruce, Jason can see in his eyes that he’s concerned too. 

But that’s not enough. It’s not enough to be concerned and not do anything about it. 

Even though Jason was expecting such a response, it still makes his blood boil. Because just wow, okay, well fuck Tim he guesses, because that was a dismissal if he ever did hear one. Jason’s heard enough, even as he sees B open his mouth to further justify his lack of concern over Tim, Jason doesn’t want to hear it and storms upstairs. His bike is up there after all. 

“Of course we are still concerned about his whereabouts, but it isn’t the first time and he hasn’t been gone even 24 hours yet, we will wait for a call from WE if he has missed work.” Dick’s voice follows him up the stairwell up and out, voice raised louder to force Jason to hear him as Jason gets further away. 

Dick’s voice fades to nothing, even as the volume was raised to trail after Jason’s escape, but Jason didn’t stop and kept trucking. He keeps going until he comes across Alfie waiting in the main parlor, already holding out Jason’s biking jacket, perfectly sized to hide his Hood outfit. Jason takes it and thanks him but doesn’t stop. He needs ta funnel his energy so he doesn’t go splat on the way home. His mind is already fuzzy from the lack of sleep he got over Tim’s bruise, not ta mention havin’ ta try to sleep off the toxin beforehand. It always leaves one feeling like sleeping for a week. 

“Master Jason,” Alfred’s steady supportive voice makes him stop in place, hand on the door knob. Jason will always stop for Alfie, so he turns to look at Alfred, to hear him out. No one else has listened to Jason as much as Alfie has. 

“Yeah Alfie?” 

“If you so happen to run into a wayward bird, do send him my way.” Jason’s about to protest, if Tim is injured, then no way is Jason sending him to the pit of vipers, when Alfred continues. 

“I’ll have some hearty soup, every growing boy needs proper nutrition, and I worry for each of you when you leave.”  
Jason nods his agreement and swoops in to give Alfred a hug, even if it is stiff and takes Alfie a second to pat his back reassuringly, before he takes off heading for home. The Bats might not be overly concerned, but Jason is, and he isn’t going to sit by idly on the off chance Tim really did just fuck off to hide for a bit. There’s just too many things that can go wrong in this life. 

***

Dick hears the clock door close, even down in the cave. Even so he continues. “It’s not like we aren’t worried about him, right B?” He glances over his shoulder to look at Bruce. Bruce motions for Damian to head upstairs to bed, it is a school night after all, while he comes up to Dick and sets a hand on his shoulder to look him in the eyes as he speaks to him, so Dick can read his expression better and see the sincerity in it. 

“He wasn’t going to hear it, son.” Bruce looks away, eyes trailing the path Jason just took and the one Damian currently and shakes his head minutely. “Tim is nothing if not always prepared, it sounds to me like he has taken a few outings on his own, has branched out. I think it best we give him a day or two more before calling any favors. if he doesn’t show up to work the next two days and we don’t find him.” 

“But what if something truly happened to him?” Dick asks, eyes earnestly seeking, trying to see if Bruce’s words are an empty placemat, or hold merit. “What will we do if we look and can’t find him? We just got Jason back on speaking terms, and that’s really only because of Tim!” 

“If we can’t find him and don’t hear from him,” Bruce speaks slowly, one hand slipping from Dick’s shoulder to hold his cheek in his hand and stroke his thumb across the cheekbone, swiping just under his eyes in the same soothing motion he used to use when Dick was still a child. “If we don’t hear from him, then I’ll call in Superman, or maybe even the Titans.” And there, Bruce can see the start of his plan settle in Dick’s mind. 

“They know him better! If the Titans don’t know where he is, then Superman should even be able to track him by his heart!” Bruce watches as the stress and tension melts out of his son’s frame, it’s still there, but with a plan in mind, it’s lessened. 

“Exactly. We move in too soon, he won’t think we trust him, we wait too long…” Bruce continues. Jumping the gun on helping Tim would not be good. Bruce  
remembers when Dick first struck out on his own, how asking after him and demanding to see him only pushed Dick further away from him. Bruce won’t make that same mistake again. But he has to be careful, Jason needed more of his attention as he approached his teen years, not less. Each child has their own needs, and finding Tim’s is even more challenging because he refuses to move back into the Manor. 

Bruce can understand somewhat. How the freedom to come and go as he pleases is nice, to not have pesky younger siblings…Tim probably just needs a little more time to get used to all the new changes. But if that’s not the case, if Tim’s in danger, then there’s a plan. They won’t step in too soon, Tim will see logic if he’s gone for that long. Tim is resourceful though, he’s going to be fine. And if he isn’t, well, there’s a reason Gotham Rogues try not to piss of the Batman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when I'll update next. My mom is doing very poorly, I've got a bunch of school stresses coming up, and my roommate coming back is sounding like a problem. If you're curious, come see me at @homeforthemissingandthelost on tumblr. There's updates there on my life, and thus, a better idea of my update scheduling. 
> 
> As always, let me know if you see any mistakes, what you like and don't like. This isn't really edited, I had most of this typed up before I disappeared on you guys, which I'm still sorry about.  
> But here *dumps heap of boiling garbage* take this chapter and I hope to come back with something better sometime soon.  
> Stay healthy and hydrated, don't forget to take some time to check in with yourself!


	23. Ivy and a Red Robin Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim wakes up a second time in captivity to Ivy's scent, but not before reminiscing on how they first met before he was Robin.

When Tim was young, he trailed after Batman and Robin to capture their fight for justice on film. He can picture himself now, all tiny and wide-eyed awe, just begging to catch a glimpse of people who cared so much about others that they risked life and limb nightly, and not for money or for debt, but because they genuinely cared. Such a novel thought, not something Tim saw in anybody else. So he had started following them, night after disastrous and oft times painful night, just to catch a glimpse of them. The ones who gave him hope for humanity. But they weren’t the only ones he met on his many ill-advised night trips. 

By the end of his photography stint, he had seen all the Rogues up close, but there were a few he met in person, and it all started with Ivy and snowballed from there.  
On one of his first excursions, he got too close to the fight scene. It was one in which it appeared, at least to Tim, that Batman had lost. Caught up tight in vines, Robin nowhere in sight, and stupid, hopeful Timmy surged forward to help. Dashed headlong from his vantage point on a fire escape down to ground level in a single leap that left him sprawled on freshly scraped knees and palms. By the time he’d recovered and felt like his sprained ankle would hold his weight, he made it to the edge of the alley in time to hear Batman’s grapple and see his shadow flit across the sky. He scrambled for his camera, desperate to get a picture. Even now, Tim can clearly remember looking through the lens and instead of seeing Batman, he saw the vines and plant life that claimed the once people-filled streets bordering one of Gotham’s fancy botanical gardens, he saw them retract and writhe, as if in physical pain themselves, and shrink back. Pulling back to the epicenter of the attack. And stupid, curious little Timmy Drake, followed one flowery vine in particular. Taking photos as the color changed from vibrant and poisonous purple to a wilted yellow, as the petals fell off, the aging of the plant that normally would take weeks or months all in a matter of seconds. If nothing else, he soothed himself, the photos are back-ups for if his parents ever remember to ask him about the camera he got and if he developed any pictures in the dark room. 

That’s his thought process at least, as he trails the retreating vine, up until he isn’t and instead it has traced back into a thick vine, and yet he still follows it. Batman is done for the night, but Tim’s not, he’s still jittery from the ending of the fight. He didn’t see it because he tried to be a hero and only ended up scraping himself up, the adrenaline is still pumping through his body though. And while he knows he should be using it to travel back home and ditch his now destroyed clothes or at least hide them and clean himself up, he is captivated by the plants. 

The thick vine twists and curls as it pulls back, bumping into dozens of other similarly wilting plant life, turning first from verdant green, to pale green, to a tan and finally a sickly yellow that dries and dies off in chunks, marking a lurid path to an epicenter. Before he knows it, he’s deeper in the thickets than he realized, and the vine, while getting thicker as it’s traced back to its source, is still dying off at a rate that defies science. A most interesting thing, and Tim’s little mind whirls with the implications and possible uses of a fast-growing plant, is it’s whole life just accelerated? Does it just live faster or is its life affected by one of the many weird chemical components in Gotham? It’s not until the vines suddenly have toes and an ankle that Tim’s jerked out of his musings. His heart stops, his lungs refuse to bring in a breath and his muscles turn to stone. As if in a movie, he slowly lowers the camera, only to be face-to-face with Ivy, one of Gotham’s notorious Rogues.  
Well, more face to side, as she’s rather curled up. Ivy’s sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, which are pulled to her chest. Her face is tucked into the space between her knees and arms. 

She looks…sick. Like she’s dying. And just like that Tim’s heart skips into overdrive. Surely Batman wouldn’t kill her right? Does he even know the damage he wrought on her or does he cause this much damage to her on purpose? There is no way kind and caring Batman would do this on purpose, right? There are so many questions and judging by her rapidly fading skin color…er plant color, not a lot of time. 

Ok, quick Tim, what helps Plants. Uh..sun. A furtive glance at the Gotham night sky, and it is dark, not even stars visible and a small sliver of a moon right before a new moon, yeah not happening any time soon, for one it’s Gotham, cloudy days are the norm, for two it’s like 2 am. 

Ok, back to the drawing board, Ivy shifts weakly away from him, curling up tighter and no longer sitting upright, but slumped tiredly against the base of a tree. Plant food! Another glance around, there is nothing even resembling gardening sheds nearby, so nope not going to find that either. 

Think Tim think, what else. Water! Tim’s eyes shoot open, and there! A few dozen yards from here there should be a hose. Tim remembers it from a school trip he had a few months ago through this particular garden for his science class. Spotting it, Tim hobbles as quickly as he can on his probably-sprained-or-strained ankle and aching knees to it. 

He stumbles around blindly for the tip of the hose but can’t seem to find one. In desperation, he twists the knob to turn the water on, hoping to find the loose end by sound alone. Only then it starts raining on him. Right, the sprinkler system. Of course, a place this big it would be much easier to just have a sprinkler system than a loose hose. Tim looks around a little more, hoping to find anything to take back to Ivy. There’s nothing, and no way is Tim going to be able to find the end, there’s multiple sprinklers going off now so it is something of an intricate setup. What to do, what to do. Flashes of Ivy fading away to sickly yellow and brown and just crumbling fill his mind. 

His water bottle! Tim yanks off his backpack and scrapples inside for his water canteen. Upon retrieval, Tim swirls the bottle, and while it’s not full, there’s still at least a cup or so in there. Maybe it won’t make a huge difference, but surely it help, right? Alright, time to go back. 

When he makes it back, Ivy is still there, curled up in a miserable ball, no longer just slouched against the tree but at the base of the massive trunk, surrounded by dead and dying plants, and the sight tugs at something inside him. Something he chooses not to think too closely about. He shifts awkwardly before he nudges the bottle carefully closer to her. It falls over with a quiet thunk just a few inches from her. The following silence is unnerving, and Tim doesn’t know that he did the right thing, or if he should have done anything at all or if he should say something. Even here Tim can still feel the sprinklers, so that should also help. 

“Uhm, Miss Ivy?” and dangit, even he can hear the tremor and uncertainty in his voice. “I’m not sure if this will help you, but you look pretty hurt,” god what was he thinking? She’s probably going to turn on him, make him plant food. “I don’t know if this will help, but there’s water in there, it was mine! So it’s like, not poisoned or anything.” And before Ivy can say or do anything other than weakly tremble, Tim retreats. Hurrying away as fast as he can, even as he inwardly cringes at repeating himself and how silly he must have sounded. 

It was the first time of many times Tim met with Ivy before he became Robin. In short, her plants recognized him the next time their paths crossed, ahem the next time she and Batman fought, and she stopped him, held him hostage by her vines until she found him, exactly two minutes after they snagged his foot and refused to let him go. Tim had been so shocked he hadn’t even thought to scream, had been trying to free himself when Ivy revealed herself to him. What followed was a lengthy conversation about how what he was doing was dangerous and going to get him hurt, to which he followed up with ‘this is Gotham lady’, like any sane Gothamite does in response to such an observation. She had laughed in response and told him if he ever found himself in a jam, to find a plant, anywhere, and call for her. She owed him a favor. It wasn’t until many conversations and free fruits and vegetables later that Tim found out just how much Ivy liked children. How protective of women and children she could be. She’d followed up on her promise, had saved him from some henchman, some muggers looking for an easy target, and had asked him to join her for tea. Now Tim, being the proper young gentleman his mom had tried to raise, couldn’t refuse. It was there he learned her real name, and her story, it was there he was introduced to Harley Quin, and later on, Catwoman. The trio of rogues took him under their motherly wing, and it was there he stayed until he became Robin. 

After that, he disappeared off their radar. Looking back, he probably should have tried harder to get in touch with at least one of them, because before he even opens his eyes, he recognizes the scent flooding the room. 

***

Tim's first waking thoughts aren’t even words, but rather the knowledge of pain. There’s panic and pain and confusion, his head feels like a concrete tumbler, slow and thick but chaotic. The second thought is that he’s been kidnapped, and it wasn’t as Red Robin, but as Tim Drake, so whatever happens here, he needs to pull it off as his civilian self would, because even though Fahad revealed he knows who Tim really is, that doesn’t mean everyone else here knows. Tim needs to do everything he can to make sure nobody else knows who he is, especially since he mentioned pulling in some kind of help that deals in memories. 

The good news though is that alert he sent at the accident went to the Teen Titans, more specifically, it went to Kon. Because his last known location was Gotham, and probably still is, Kon has been instructed to contact a Bat before stepping foot in Gotham. Specifically, Tim asked Kon to find Jason. So, he only has to wait it out until then, hope that Kon has access to his phone, is checking it regularly, and that he can find Hood fairly quickly. 

Tim’s third thought is that there is someone else in here with him, not to mention the cameras that are undoubtedly on him, so he opens his eyes with the intent to play up the injured rich boy, he staggers off the bed and lands in a heap on the floor, hoping to maybe garner some sympathy from whatever party Fahad has involved. Which owfuck, hurt a whole heck of a lot more than he thought it would and he is temporarily dazed by the overwhelming pain screeching from what has to be a broken wrist and ribs, and what feels like a broken brain. 

Tim blames all that pain, white-noise and the idea to pull a Timothy Drake on why he doesn’t recognize the scent. It’s not until he’s on the floor trying to regain his breath and breathe through the throbbing headache, pain in his ribs screaming from his attempt to get up and fight, and his wrist, not to mention the sudden cramping and nausea he’s suffering from coming off the blasted suppressants. It isn’t until he’s staring right at one Doctor Pam Isley, aka Ivy, that he recognizes the scent. It’s the Alpha version of herself, he has been around all her influences, from helping Harley out, to when she’s just hanging out and willing to let her natural Omega scent flow. 

And she’s looking at him just like she used to look at young and dumb Timmy Drake, with a softness and an understanding in her eyes. Her voice soft and lilting, reaching into his very being to soothe his hurts. “Hi, I’m Ivy.” She coos softly at him from her seat halfway across the room. “I’d like to help you if you’ll let me.” Well, not surprising she doesn’t recognize him yet, it has been a few years, but wow, maybe this escape will be easier than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind wishes and comments! My mom is doing better, my siblings fevers all broke, and work calmed down.  
> Also you cannot convince me that Tim wouldn't have had some personal encounters with rogues, at least henchmen, after tailing batman for years, this is a hill I will die on   
> As always, please let me know what you guys like and what you think!


	24. The Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy and Tim reconnect. Fahad is a typical bad guy, and Tim is out of options. This is why one must always have contingencies, hopefully Tim's will come through soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentioned abuse (Joker/Harley) neglect (Tim and his parents), torture descriptions, though not graphic, no blood.   
> Hiii!! so this chapter has been updated! I feel a lot better about it now, and will be exploring the original scenario in a what-if side story for those interested. I have no idea what my update schedule will be or if there even will be one and can promise nothing. I really hope now that I have gotten through the re-editing of this chapter I can move on with the story. 
> 
> I really can't thank you guys enough for your support. It is because of all of you guys and your encouraging and caring comments that I've been able to push through this roadblock. I hope you all are doing well and are safe! I cannot say thank you enough, or describe how much y'all support means to me. 
> 
> Life is still hectic, my parents are officially divorced, as of christmas week. Merry christmas to me! My mom, sister and little brother will be bouncing between my apartment and my grandparents house, which will be very interesting. My grandfather is having literal brain surgery (Parkinson's) and will be needing my mom's help a lot starting the end of this month. One of our dog's is about to be put down, he is really old (15 and a golden lab clocking over 90 lbs) and has started falling down the steps. One of these days he is going to break a hip, so we are cutting to a merciful end rather then waiting for an inevitable, excruciating death. For life updates and hopefully story progress, follow me on Tumblr @homeforthemissingandthelost

Tim still can’t help but stare for a moment, surprise and relief shuddering through his mind, his body relaxing back down to the cold, hard floor, out of his precarious crouch without conscious thought. His heart is still thudding in his chest, his brain is hazy, his wrist a sharp flame of throbbing pain, and a pounding headache making everything muffled, and too sharp all at once, but she’s safe. She won’t let anything bad happen to him, especially if she recognizes him, even if she doesn’t Ivy has always been protective of women, omegas, and children. Tim knows without checking that he doesn’t have a scent blocker on, so she definitely knows his caste, thereby checking at least one box, and in this case, one box is probably enough.

“Dr. Isley.” It comes out softer than he intended it to, his voice unexpectedly cracking and hoarse, and he mentally grimaces at how pathetic it sounded. But hey, bigger problems than sounding like a prepubescent teen going on, stay focused Tim.

Surprise flits across Ivy’s face, and she leans forward to peer better at him, her face screwing up in that face she used to make when she was explaining a tough concept to Tim, or when she was working on a research project and had hit a dead end. Tim saw her body twitch, as if to come closer than her languid position on the uncomfortably cold floor, but Ivy pointedly didn’t come any closer.

Tim can see a light click in her eyes, the recognition lighting up her face, softening the hard stress lines there, and Tim has to hold in a relieved sigh. Right now, any help is absolutely appreciated for this rather fermented pickle Tim has found himself in. But it is probably for the best that they not let Fahad catch on that they know each other.

Tim tries to communicate as much, making eye contact with Ivy, then throwing a hasty glance at the upper corners of the room, hoping she understands that there are cameras watching them. In response, she shifts into a more comfortable position on the floor, which Tim can now attest for, it is just as uncomfortable as it looks. She props up one knee for her to rest her forearms and chin on. 

“How are you feeling, Sapling?”

Well, maybe that is vague enough Fahad won’t notice, then again, the way Tim’s life has been going that would just be too easy.

“Like I was kidnapped.” He can’t help but deadpan back, and Ivy only shakes her head in exasperation at his humor, and he remembers just how exasperated she used to get over his dry sense of humor as a child. 

“Whatever do they want with you? Did you get caught up in something you shouldn’t have?” Ivy pries, voice filled with quiet concern, and Tim’s eyes suddenly feel hot. He can’t remember the last time someone expressed an honest concern over him, it has at least been since Bruce died, if of course you exclude the first “we are alive-surprise-motherfuckers!” meetings the Titans had.

He remembers her using that same gentle but sure tone on Harley when she’d come home more beat up than not. Of course, Ivy had tried to keep him away from that, everyone knows Joker is an asshole, but Tim had seen Harley come back once before Ivy managed to patch her up. Had seen the fresh blood and bruises and her reeking of distress and upset, heard her wail about how she was “nevah good enough” and it “wasn’t his fault” and Ivy had simply…taken charge. Had soothed and tended, while slowly pulling tidbits of the sordid story out. Mostly he just saw the healing bruises and scabbed over lips, the stitches, but more importantly, he got to see how Harley would heal and flourish under Ivy’s soft, attentive care. Back then, it had just drawn him in even closer to Ivy.

It was weird to be on this end of that voice and care, and Tim can’t help but be shocked at his body’s response to someone caring. He tries to deny the tightening of his throat and how his eyes get hot. Stupid hormones. Stupid suppressants. Damned businessmen at WE trying to kick him out. That’s all that is, definitely not that Tim’s tired of being on his own, just wants someone to be proud of Tim-the-person, not just Tim-the-person-who-can-solve-everyone’s-problems.

Tim sniffles, horrified at the audible sound, and tries to rein in his body’s reactions using some of the meditative breathing instilled in him through various teachers, from Rahul Lama to Batman himself. It helps some, but not as much as Tim hoped it would. The calming breaths do help settle the still burning fight-or-flight response from his abrupt push to consciousness, so at least there is that going his way. 

“I don’t know,” he looks away, not quite able to lie to her the way he could lie to Bruce. Ivy had always been able to call him out on his lies before he was Robin, and she might be able to do so now. Something to be tested later. Whether or not he can lie to Ivy. Sure, he can lie to Batman, but Ivy…Ivy used to call him out on all of his lies, and therefor has experience and knows his tells. She had radar, had been able to tell the difference between even a half-truth and a full fib, it had never ceased to both humiliate and fascinate him back then.

Now, Tim honestly wants to test and see if it is some part of her being part plant with the ability to create and read pheromones, or if it is something else. Tim makes a mental note to test this hypothesis, but later, and not when he is, you know, a kidnapee sitting on a cold concrete floor with nothing but Ivy and his wit to save himself.

“Nothing good probably.” 

Ivy nods her head in understanding. They live in Gotham.

Bad things happen to good people, to bad people, to the morally gray people all the time, that’s just Gotham.

She knows little Timmy came from money, but even if he didn’t still have it, there’s plenty of other reasons for a young Omega to be snatched, and the thought turns her stomach. A young Timmy flashes across her mind, always curious and full of questions, trying to be as helpful as possible while also staying out of the way. She and Harls had quite a few conversations about him, and just what they should do. His family was at best abusively neglectful, but blessedly absent. She’d seen Timmy after his parents came back, and it was never good.

Always the reserved and polite child his parents or guardians or whoever forced him to be at home. It was amazing back then what just a few hours relaxing with her and Harls would do for him, turning right back into his inquisitive, talkative little self. But now, things are different. After they get out of this, she’s got his scent and will have all her Campanulas, her bell flowers, alert her to his presence and travels across Gotham to keep him from disappearing again. Somehow, he looks worse now than he did as a neglected child running around Gotham streets at night, and now, she’s got the bitter, sour scent that to prove it. Either packless, or close enough. And Ivy just won’t sit around to let that stand.

***

They make mindless small talk as Ivy gives off the calming pheromones his body is desperately craving. Tim would never admit it, not even under torture, but it does leave him feeling better, more awake and clear-headed.

Timmy is high strung, over-stressed, and more exhausted than any person should ever be, and all Ivy can think about is how a proper nest and cuddling or scenting would be the fastest way to ease his pain and set his levels right, but it has been years since they’ve seen each other, and Ivy doesn’t have a single clue as to how he would react to her trying to wrap him up like the little cuddle bug he used to be. Timmy had always been a little weird about touch, sometimes desperately craving it and other times flinching away from the simplest brush of skin. They used to curl up together and read, or she would help him with his school. Later, when Harley started coming around, she would drag them over to one of her shitty apartments for a movie night. They would all cuddle up together, drinking hot chocolate and watching their favorite cartoons. On top of that, heaven only knows why he was kidnapped and what their captors want from them, best not to show any weakness or fondness just in case.

As soon as they’re out, there will be a conversation about this, about how bad off she can feel he is, and if he doesn’t want her help, then she can at least point him in the right direction, or a couple of right directions. There are resources out there, and no reason for anyone regardless of their caste to be suffering the way he is. And oh boy, Timmy is definitely suffering the effects from not having a proper Pack Bond. At best he is already suffering the weakened immune system, and at worst could already be suffering depression or other more harmful side effects. Some are suited to it, more like prefer that way of life, but most can’t survive it, not well at least.

Ivy is holding up the conversation, rambling on in her soothingly level voice about some of her research. If they weren’t under heavy surveillance, she would tell Timmy about Harley’s new pets, a pair of hyenas of all things, maybe try and convince him to help Ivy talk some sense into Harley and help keep her away from Joker. It seems like Timmy doesn’t have much to say, he had snagged the thin sheet that constituted a blanket from the gurney and wrapped up in it a few moments in, looking all the more like the snuggly young pup she remembered him as. He looks like a toddler watching Saturday morning cartoons.

She is just broaching the interesting point in her lecture, about the roadblock she has hit with her current toxin, she is trying to make a toxoid for one of Crane’s toxins, but she can’t seem to refine it enough to keep it from having toxic effects, when the door to the outside is abruptly thrown open.

The room rapidly fills with men in traditional garb of some sort, the same she has been seeing for days, weeks, however long she’s been cooped up here away from the sun. This time, there’s something different, their body language stiff and threatening instead of just the open wariness, there is subtle aggression. Ivy cuts a glance to Timmy, and by his grim countenance, she knows whatever Timmy got caught up in, these men aren’t coming just to talk. Ivy always prided herself as being one to listen to reason, but what possible reason could they have to do this? What could they possibly hope to gain from locking her up with some rich kid off the streets? She wonders as she watches the men part for the last man to come in, an imposing aura radiating off his arrogant entrance.

He is mildly shorter than the rest, hair slightly peppered grey with age. His fancier garb also makes him stand out as an important official compared to the rest of the ranks, and it clicks as she studies it. That looks like League garb. This won’t be good.

“My name, is Fahad, and I have a proposition I think you would appreciate.” He ignores Timmy entirely, his gaze solely on Ivy. “ _Funding_ , and _resources_ , and _all you could ever need_. Just hear me out on this project you would need to complete.” The guy, Fahad, continues, he looks like he is auditioning for a part of a businessman in a play, his arms gesturing wildly, voice loud and emphasizing his words.

“As you can see, this is what happens when an Omega has lived quite a stressful life without a stable interpersonal support system,” a dramatic hand curls toward Timmy’s huddled figure, his bandaged arm, bruises and scratches accented under the flickering fluorescent lights and the sterile white walls.

Good, Ivy thinks to herself, it appears Fahad doesn’t they don’t know she and Timmy have history with each other, should be easier to escape, but information is always good. Anyone cooking up ideas featuring Omegas is never a good thing, but especially not in Gotham.

“Stress is a bad thing, it’s unhealthy for Omegas. Just look at him!” A flash of anger curls in her chest at his word adage, how his voice sounds mocking. He sounds sexist and intolerable. Ivy can’t wait to get out and have her plants tear this place apart.

She’s heard enough similar talks, growing up, in school. In every professional aspect there is always that person that just has to make themself feel like they are better than others.

“Pale, weak, struggling to survive without anyone in his life willing to help him. It is most easily seen in Omegas, but Alphas and Betas also need a certain level of support from friends and family to healthily handle heavy amounts of stress. And I want to change that.”

And yes, she can see it. She can see it in the subtle trembling of his fingers, clutching tightly in the sheet, purple bags under his eyes just how much Timmy has been dragged through the mud of life and stench of Gotham life. But the determined look in his crystalline blue eyes catches her attention. Little Timmy had always been a force to be reckoned with, and Ivy is glad that somethings don’t change. Timmy has his eyes locked on her, waiting for her to make a move. It is good to see the trust still in his eyes for her. It was only ever him and Harls who would ever look at her that way, and she will do everything she can to see that trust stay.

She turns her attention back to the monologuing speaker, mind clear on just what she is unwilling to do.

“But what if…” The man is pacing around in front of her. “What if we could remove all memories associated with a stressor?” Here he looks at her, and she can see how much he wants that to be possible, but all Ivy can think of is Harley. “Sure he will still have to live through stressful events, but as soon as it has passed, it is erased, keeping only the happy memories.”

“What if Omegas don’t have to live this way! They don’t have to depend on others and tire out their relationships and friendships for the care they need. There would be no need for them to rely on others to make them feel better about themselves! They would forget every bad or stressful thing to ever happened to them. They would be able to live independently! Imagine a world where nobody has to rely on anyone else!”

Ivy has to give him credit, his words sound like he cares, but his tone has a hint of condescending in it, and Harley pops back into her mental visage. There is always that person who thinks the need for healthy relationships and friendships is tedious and a waste of time, that Omegas and Alphas should look for medical abilities and research to weed out such an inconveniencing part of life. Not to mention, the sort of money and research time that would be involved in the gene editing process.

Even if this man, who kidnapped Ivy and arguably held her against her will, he kidnapped someone who doesn’t even look of age, could convince her he had only good intentions, there is no way Ivy would be willing. Ivy has morals, thanks. They may be arguably quite gray, but she has them. Not to mention how impossible such feat would be on a timetable of any sort.

Now Ivy understands where she comes into this.

Some plants have the ability to “forget” stressful “memories”, such as droughts or fires.* But to do that is to take away not only memories, but to take away the ability to recognize dangerous situations. If the puppy doesn’t remember its old master kicking it, then what keeps it from returning?

Even without taking into consideration just how bad erasing bad memories would be, there is one hell of an ethical and moral problem with that, not to mention the biological wear, there’s a reason living things have the reactions they do, that they have the pre-programed systems that they do. Tinkering with them to make them more convenient is never a good idea. There is no way Ivy would ever consider helping facilitate such a possibility, also, even the best and top of the line scientists would not be able to isolate and replicate the section of chromosome responsible and come up with an acceptable process to replicate and properly insert it.

“No.” She interrupts firmly.

Fahad, who is still trying to sell her on this idea, stops mid-sentence.

“Excuse me?”

And there’s the dangerous lilt in his voice, she knew this was coming, this is where things are going to go sideways.

Ivy stands up but doesn’t move any closer, mindful of her body language and how her hair and her vines have started budding Rhododendrons. She can feel Timmy’s eyes on her, and she hopes he remembers the symbol for danger. 

“What you are talking about, is not possible. You are talking about gene therapy and recombinant DNA research, of which I am not an expert in. My specialty is plants, not genetics or cell biology.” His polite facade fades immediately.

“Dr. Isley,” disdain and anger lace his tone, “or should I say, Ivy,”, he growls out as he floods the room with angryangryangry. A lesser person would be intimidated, but Ivy is a Gothamite now and has been for some years now. “I do not care what it is called or what processes must be done, make it so.”

“Look, even if I wanted to, the amount of gene editing and lab work that would be required for such an experiment are decades and decades away from even top scientists! I am a biologist, not a geneticist, Fahad. Even if I managed to do all of those things, the likelihood of the restriction endonucleases destroying it and possibly even killing him because it recognizes it as an invading virus DNA is high.” The amount of disdain Ivy manages to inject into her polite response makes Tim want to bring her to board meetings with him.

“Dr. Isley, I am losing my patience with you.”

“No matter how much patience you have I am unable to perform any such experimental gene or chromosomal editing. There is nothing more to say on this topic. You are talking about gene therapy using some sort of recombinant DNA research. It would not just be a simple one-time injection or procedure even if I could spit one out for you.” Ivy pauses to take a breath and consider. “It is a very complex process, especially in complex or multicellular organisms, of which humans are. T-DNA or CRISPR-Cas 9 process would have to be first figured out, the proper promoter or promoter sequence, there are too many variables and it would not stick as he is most definitely not a plant."

The two glare heatedly at each other, at a bit of an impasse.

Fahad heaves a deep, disappointed sigh. “Then you leave me no choice, Dr. Isley.”

There’s a soft popping noise, then it is raining.

At first Ivy is delighted, it’s been quite some time since they’ve given her more than her severely limited water ration, but instead of the soothing and relieving kiss of rain. Her skin burns.

She can’t stop the pained cry that leaves her lungs. It feels like acid, her skin is shriveling and already starting to peel. The sprinkler system is on, but it doesn’t contain water.

“Stop!” Timmy’s voice yells out, “you are hurting her.”

Then there are hands on her, the sheet covering her, but the acid rain doesn’t stop, and Ivy is confused as to how she’s the only one it is affecting. Tim’s sheltering her as best he can, hovering protectively over her where she is curled up and kneeling on the floor, her body wracked with pain as she feels her vines and flowers shriveling and dying, the leaves and petals falling to the ground around her.

“I told you,” that stupid sinister voice is closer this time, he is mere feet away, close enough she could reach out and touch him. “The easy, or the hard way.”

He opens his arms widely in a grand gesture, “you made your decision.”

Timmy, oh faithful Timmy, is jolting to his feet unsteadily in her defense, and much to her shock, he punches Fahad solidly, knocking Fahad down in one hit ,one arm curled defensively to his chest..

It isn’t the first punch that takes her by surprise, she can’t see much through the acid-painpainpain ohgod makeitstop-but the followed movements. Timmy’s got Fahad, their backs to her and vaguely she can hear Timmy making demands, but the words don’t filter through.

***

Tim has Fahad. He had watched Fahad, had looked at his clothes during his stupid sales pitch, spotting the knife and other assorted weaponry quickly. But seriously this guy needs to research his villains. Ivy is more of an antihero than a villain, she is a big and open supporter for Omega’s rights and has made more than one paper playing with children. No way was she going to buy that load of bull. Tim has sat through enough of her lectures about respecting life and its functions that he knows better than to suggest trying to alter such an imperative part of life. This guy is an idiot, and Tim is ashamed that Fahad managed to snag him.

The knife had been easy. Getting to Ivy had been instinctual, there’s still a strong tug in his chest at her obvious anguish, her groans and muffled whimpers of pain slicing through his concentration. Fahad coming closer to her while she was down was just dramatic villain 101. It had been easy there to get in a solid punch and pull the knife from the fold of Fahad’s sleeve. It’s pushed to his throat blade flat because Tim isn’t an idiot and doesn’t want to accidentally kill the guy.

“Turn it off!” Tim addresses the troops, all of whom have weapons drawn on him, varying from swords and knives, to full on pistols and rifles. Fahad chuckles darkly in his ear and pulls at Tim’s arm. The broken one, that’s spiking in pain, the nerves screaming and muscles protesting, but Tim has to get out. 

“My death doesn’t matter birdy, you will be the perfect present to atone for my… misstep,” the guys is delicately speaking around Tim’s blade with what is quite honestly a stupid amount of confidence, seriously this is just another sucky Wednesday for Tim. Nonetheless the words make his hair stand on end, while this situation is typical, the fact they know just what and who he is, is not a typical variable in the equation of his life.

“A clean slate, no memory to fear and no need to burden family and friends for support, the perfect gift.” Tim’s mind whirls at the implications of such a drug. To have the ability to erase past stressors, past memories of all things stressful? That would be to erase everything Tim is, and all of his memories as a vigilante. From B and Jay, all the way down to Damian and the Rogues he met, but especially the Rogues and villains. Like Ra’s. Tim is going to push this point.

“Yeah but hey, you are not going to live to see it.” Tim puts as much grit and anger and Bat-voice into it as he can. If this guy didn’t do his research well, maybe, just maybe he will think Tim would actually kill him.

“Hah! We all know you’re just a declawed kitten.” Fahad spat back. “Up the concentration!” He yells to his stupid henchmen. Ugh just why is this Tim’s life.

The spray comes down harder, and now even Tim can feel his skin start to itch a little at whatever insane concoction is spraying down on them, but it’s Ivy’s bloodcurdling scream that breaks him. A quick glance back at Ivy reveals a horrifying image. Her flowers and vines in her hair and down her body are all withered and yellow, many lying dead at her feet, and her skin… her skin is peeling and shriveling and turning a myriad of frightening yellow and brown shades Tim throws Fahad away from him and stumbling into the guards. But his attention isn’t on them. No way is he going to let Ivy be tortured like this, not without an easy way out. While Tim had Fahad literally by the neck, there was no way he could actually go through with killing someone, and with as weak as he is, and injured, a fight would just get him locked up tighter with more ow-fucks. But Ivy. She will find a way out, and if she doesn’t, well, that’s why Tim has contingencies who are hopefully going to find them very soon, and even if they don’t, Tim will find a way to get them out.

He crouches by her, “It’s okay Dr. Isley, just do what they want.” Here's hoping they can trick their way out of this sitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * https://www.newscientist.com/article/2078276-plants-have-evolved-forgetfulness-to-wipe-out-memory-of-stress/  
> Interesting article about plants evolving to forget stressful times such as drought.  
> Please do keep in mind just some of the other weird/unbelievable things Ivy has been stated to be able to do, and yeah, wiping stress-related memories doesn't seem that far-fetched.  
> So Fahad had the sprinkler set up with a high acidity level. If you have ever used vinegar to kill weeds, then that is exactly what is going on here. Ivy is part plant, vinegar would not do nice things for her. 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, and even more sorry this ends on a cliffhanger. School is killing me, I have more tests next week, so it will be awhile before the next update.  
> You guys take care, I hope to be back soon.


	25. Not an Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOT AN UPDATE

Unfortunately this is not an update...

I know it's been a really long time since I last updated, but life has been crazy. My parents are getting divorced, school has been killing me, and just...it's been a weird and rough go. 

In the original outline, amnesia had been a mild thought bump, but hadn't been written in. Once I got the point I was going to apply it, it didn't flow very well. I hated it. I love the concept I had, and the places I could take it, but it's too unrefined and I can't make it go the way I wanted to. 

So, here is what is going to happen. I am going to edit the last chapter a bit, and instead of amnesia in this, I am going to write a one-shot for it and post it some other time. I've had so many conflicting thoughts and drafts produced over this next chapter... it's been really discouraging. I've never done more than one-shots or stand-alones, even on my own time, so please have patience with the bumps, bruises, and plotholes that will come with the progression of this story. 

Thank you for your time, patience, and support.


	26. Chatper 25: The Rescue Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and the Batfam are still trying to figure out what happened to Tim, but someone else has rescued Tim and Ivy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GO BACK AND READ CHAPTER 24!! Some decent sized changes were made so this chapter will make more sense if you do that.   
> I don't promise quality, but I do promise content! It's been way way too long but, ouch does life kick hard.   
> I sincerely cannot thank you guys enough for all your support, this story would have ended without you guys.   
> I hope y'all are hanging in there and taking care of yourselves! I am going to check this again for minor errors tomorrow, it's after 1 am here and I have class in the morning so if I missed something... that's why.   
> Please let me know what you guys liked or any mistakes that bother you!

The next day sees Jason stompin’ ‘round the Bowery grounds. There is still nothing on the brat, and Jason is feelin’ real antsy ‘bout that fact. So now his boots are thudding heavily in a satisfyingly loud way that defies his silent nighttime routine as he walks along cracked and misshapen streets and alleyways. He knows it doesn’t help anything, and at home would have gotten the Alfred Brow of Disapproval but Alfie ain’t here, and it is a small way to work out some of his restless energy. 

Tim’s got some WE sponsored places down here, and Jason knows Tim checks on them in person as both his civilian persona and the Bat one. If Jason just so happens to run into a hopefully-not-kidnapped Tim in the process well… that would be convenient.   
But of course, nothing is ever that convenient. A lovely check in with three out of five locations turns up fruitless, none of them have heard nor seen Tim. Come on, one does not just disappear into nothingness without leaving a trace, even if- because even if Jason was the one what bruised Tim up, he ain’t helpless. There’s gotta be a struggle somewhere they’re all overlookin’. 

The more Jason thinks back on it… the more he thinks he overreacted, which just solidifies the whole ‘Tim’s been kidnapped’ schtick. 

Tim lets people walk all over him for work sure, but Jason’s never heard of him taking a hit from someone they considered friendly without kickin’ up some sort of vigilante kick ass in return. Unless it wasn’t warranted. Which…ok Jason won’t forgive himself for hurting anyone again, but he remembers the first time he saw B under the influence of Fear. And ok yeah, Jason has enough of a guilt complex now that stewing in his own thoughts made it worse than it probably was… Tim certainly hadn’t acted like he was upset with Jason. And while a little upset would be warranted, freezing Jason and the Bats many attempts to raise him would be over th’ top an’ outta character. 

So, while Jason-the-Person is certain some part of Tim’s trust is damaged because Jason punched him, Detective-Jason says that’s utter bullshit with a capital B. Tim has been captured and that’s that. 

Time to start searchin’. By hitting the WE sponsored places today, Jason knocks two birds with one stone, preliminary searching for Tim, checking up on the people in the Bowery and makin’ sure nobody’s abusing WE’s resources without Tim there to stand over them in his weird weekly visits. Besides, while he’s down here, he can also check in on Tim’s safe houses, see if he has stumbled in there fucked up nine ways’ ta Sunday. ‘S happened before, and Jason isn’t too sure which thought he prefers, Tim badly injured and slowly dying by hisself inna shitty brownstone, or Tim badly injured and held captive for whatever fucked up revenge his captor has in store. 

Jason has finally knocked off safe houses numeros uno y dos and is running out of still valid Tim-spaces to look, when his phone rings, cutting off his thoughts. He accepts the call and holds it to his ear and grunts in acknowledgement.   
“Hello, is this Jason?” A rich, smoky voice reaches him.   
Jason furrows his brow, this isn’t someone he recognizes, few people have this number, and even fewer dare use it. Jason grumbles an affirmative noise in response.   
“This is Tam Fox with WE,” his eyebrows jump and his eyes narrow warily. “Tim told me about six months ago, after that whole, you know, weird fiasco with things I shouldn’t know about…” 

Why does Tam know about anything weird going down back then? Well wait, Jason considers, if she is his secretary person, but scarier-fuck Jason don’t remember her title proper like, sue him-then it makes sense she would know something weird was going on then and-. Maybe, maybe she’s got something useful for him now. He stops walking and hunkers against the brick wall of a Mom’n’Pop to better concentrate and listen to her.   
“He told me if he ever disappeared again or didn’t show up for work, to call you.” Jason’s heart stops. “So, this is me calling you, to tell you to go find him and bring him back to do the paperwork and wrangle the Board like he is paid to do, if you give me an email, I am supposed to send you his last month’s worth of work and a few contacts’ phone numbers…” 

***

It's only been a few hours since Tim told Pam to do whatever Fahad told her to do, and they are finally making some sort of progress. Fahad had allowed Pam to get rinsed off before heading to work in a lab he had prepped for her. 

She doesn't look good. Her skin, which is usually a vibrant leaf green, is still yellow and splotched brown. More of her flowers and leaves have wilted and fallen. She looks unsteady on her feet. They need to find a way out. 

If absolute worst comes to worst, Tim can call for Kon and Kon will hopefully hear him. There are a lot of flaws in that plan. Starting with Kon might not be able to track him anymore, to Kon finding out in that way that Tim isn't a Beta. Kon also isn't used to Gotham villians and there might be a problem with Kon helping Ivy rather than just snagging Tim and flying off. 

Tim is being dragged behind Ivy by four assassins, they aren't underestimating him this time. His hands are chained uncomfortably tight and have already started chafing, his ankles also have manacles which are attached to the same chain as his hands, meaning his steps are very small and shuffling to prevent yanking on his hands. Tim feels a little giddy that they are actually taking him inside the lab, maybe there is something inside he can use. 

The lab is old but the equipment is pristine and the counters clean. It looks like Gotham U's labs honestly. You would think being a university it would have nice, fancy, new tech, but you would be wrong. Tim got to break into the college labs once with Jay and can confirm that almost half the chemicals there are over 30 years old and not as reactive as they should be, most of the equipment is about the same age. Tim should know from experience that villains don't all have shiny and new equipment, but he had hoped for something fancy or cool to look at while he plotted, but alas it was not meant to be. 

Tim is escorted and pushed to a seat in the emergency shower in the corner while Dr. Isley is left alone in the middle of the lab. Two guards stay with them. As the hours pass, the assassins relax some, and take turns walking around the room and briefly checking in with Ivy. Any time Tim shifts to try and get more comfortable, both assassins jerk to attention and geez, they should know at this point all Tim wants is some gosh darn sleep, damnit. 

Well, that and to lull them into a false sense of security. If it was Ra's assassins directly, that would not be possible for weeks, but this isn't Ra's. And Tim needs some sort of hope here that he and Dr. Isley can make it out on their own. 

Another two-ish hours pass, according to Tim's inner clock, before he starts really falling into an uncomfortable sleep. 

***

Tim is awakened abruptly to the laboratory door slamming open so hard it rebounds off the wall. Harley cartwheels in, a colorful shotgun holstered snugly between her shoulder blades. She ends on a nice round off, her hands arched to the sky like a performer. She has a colorful shotgun in hand and a belt running shoulder to hip of different colored canisters. Harley is flanked by her two hyenas, Bud and Louie if Tim remembers correctly. 

She blows a bubble in her bright pink bubblegum and pulls it back into her mouth to make a comically loud pop as it bursts in her mouth.   
"It's a jailbreak fellas!! No hard feelin’s!" she giggles, before pulling the shotgun out. 

Ivy drops to the ground and covers her head as Harley ejects one shot and puts another one in, the gun making a satisfying click as she loads and pumps it. One shot hits assassin 1, who tried to charge her, square in the chest, but instead of a pepper spray of buckshot, it explodes into bright pink smoke which creates a thick haze. Tim is distracted from the rest of the fight by Catwoman sneaking in the room. It’s hard to make her out in the haze and he didn’t fully recognize her until she was less than a foot away. 

“Dr. Isley’s hurt,” Tim tells her. She nods in appreciation, as the shackles fall away, god it is nice to have someone else pick his locks for him. With the shackles and awkward position he had been sitting in, his hands and feet are well past the pins-and-needles stage. Tim and Selina briskly rub his ankles and wrists to get some form of circulation back before he tries to stand. “Harley is a suitable distraction, let me get you out first darlin’, then I’ll come back for her if she hasn’t caught up yet.” 

Before Tim can argue, Selina pulls him to his feet and Tim nearly drops when he tries to stand, the circulation is returning and oh man does it feel great, he thinks sarcastically. He snags one set of cuff and chains to use as a weapon before he is hustled out the door, heroically trying not to trip over the numb, bricks that are his feet. He rolls an ankle more than once in the shuffle and is grateful then that he can’t feel the full effect of pain. Well, definitely going to be feeling that later, he thinks with a grimace. His ribs, head and arm are still screaming in defiance but they will just have to wait until they get out, then hopefully Tim can sneak out and deal with them on his own. 

An explosion behind them knocks them forward hard and they both fall to the hard floor, knocking the breath out of Tim and he struggles to get a breath in as his ribs grind and send sparks of pain across his chest, his diaphragm locking up in protest. 

“Come on, we gotta hurry, Harley and Ivy are on their way out,” Selina urges, as Tim leaps to his feet, and shit, rolls his ankle again. Come on limbs, work with me here, he grimaces. The good news is Tim knows Harley won’t leave Ivy behind, so he doesn’t have to really worry about a contingency plan to come back for her. Selina has a firm grip on Tim’s good arm to help him stay up as they run down the endless hallways. 

Another hand latches onto Tim’s, startling him. “Come on kid!” Harley’s thick Gotham twang sounds loudly beside him, and a glance shows she has Ivy slung over her shoulder. “It’s time ta scoot!” 

They burst through a series of doors, an exit in sight. Thank god for bright red exit signs. They are only about halfway to the door when assassins round the corner. Harley awkwardly hikes the shotgun and pops off a shot and whistles for her pets; while Tim straightens and tightens his grip on his stolen chain. While the chain may be far from his usual array of weapons, they will certainly be useful against the- quick headcount -five assassins. Just as Tim and Selina are pushing apart to get some distance apart to better fight, someone drops through a ceiling panel, the cheap, white tile essentially disintegrates upon impact. The lithe form that drops down is unloading a clip even before landing. As the last guard falls, they turn to face Tim’s group. 

“Look lady, we ain’t gotta problem wit’cha, so, ah…. You wouldn’t mind just letting us pass the easy way, would ya?” Harley asks, a glint of trouble in her eye at the next, clearly overgunned threat. But Tim knows this one. 

“Pru! What are you doing here?” He asks incredulously, of course he should have known when he saw her at the docks, she must still be working for Ra’s. Maybe keeping an eye on Tim is her new gig from him, and when he disappeared well, can’t go letting that happen, that’s just bad manners. If Ra’s doesn’t get Tim, then no one does, and the cementation of that fact chills him, but that’s a problem for later. 

“We gotta get outta here,” he says instead to Selina and Harley. “She’s a friendly.” 

“Sure as shit am, Bossman!” She shoots back easily, looking him and his group up and down while reloading clips. “Now where to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for your support, this would have been abandoned without you <3


	27. The Search is Productive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets kicked into gear by his own worry, but is kicked into high gear by a call from Tam. With the help of Tam, Jason gets help from some of Tim's old friends.  
> This leads to the discovery of Tim's car... oh boy, progress is finally being made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! three weeks is a lot better! Right? Right!  
> I checked it briefly for errors, but let me know if you see something! As always, let me know what you guys think!

Jason’s motorcycle leaps under his controls as he flies back to his Red Hood apartment. There is an apartment for Jason only, and there is the most stocked and secluded of safehouses, the one that the bats don’t know about, and that one is Red Hood’s, his current destination. 

Jason has a plan brewing now. Tam’s call was just confirmation of what he feared (and hoped, Tim is NOT hiding from him) and oh boy is he never letting B hear the end of this one. Once he gets to the brownstone, he hurries inside and heads to the computer Tim set up for him. Tam kindly sent him alla Tim’s latest works, as well as some contact info she thought Jason would find useful. Tim has sung all sorts o’ praises about her, so whateve’ she’s got, Jason trusts. 

B done did have his chance on this, so Jason isn’t going to involve them if he don’t have ta. No, it’ll be all th’ more enjoyable to prove ta Timmy that although he messed up and messed up badly in the past when it came ta him, that ain’t where they at now. 

They’re tight. And Jason will always do what he can ta have Tim’s back. Tim was th’ first ta reach out ta him, and continuously extend an olive branch that Jason typically tried ta beat ‘im wit’. But Tim always came back, even through all th’ beatdowns Jason laid on him when the Pit still soared. 

And now, now Jason’s had almost a year without it sitting co-pilot, but rather backseat. And while back seat drivers are annoying, they are ignorable and easier ta drown out with practice. Jason isn’t giving up on Tim. It’s the least he can do in return. He is gonna chase down every lead, and while he hopes Tim ain’t hurt, Jason is also eager to prove himself to Tim. Prove without any uncertainty, that Tim can trust him to be there for him. 

Tim needs someone to trust, and someone who trusts in him. Jason is going to do everything he can to be one of those people, and hopefully bring in some others. Flying solo only ends one way, and it ain’t 6 feet above th’ ground. 

So Jason checks his email, skims through WE’s business dealings. Nothing really makes sense ta him, but there are meeting times and dates. And bingo. 

Highlighted in a distinct shade of red, is a missed meeting. It’s the day after he gave Tim those antibiotics and they had themselves a little talk about healthcare. 

Jason backtracks the schedule a little bit, checking ta see what else he had doin’ that day…and finds it suspiciously clear, the little excel blocks blacked out entirely. His brows furrow as he checks to see if there are any other blocks like this. There aren’t any. And as clear as the rest of this is marked, Jason shoots Tam a quick email back asking for clarification on it. 

While he is waiting to hear back from her, he scrolls through the last of the week’s schedule, all the meetings marked canceled. So he switches gears to the contact info. 

She sent it in a excel sheet. Instead of names, there are locations in the blocks next to emails and phone numbers. Some slots only have one, but a few have both. There’s Metropolis/Smallville, and while Jason’s initial thought is Kent, a brief second thought makes it more likely to be the Clone. Jason knows Tim and Superboy were really close, he hopes they still are, but death has a way of messin’ with people. Beneath that, it looks like Kid Flash, Wondergirl, and a few other Titans. 

Beneath those is just “Iraq” and an out of country number. That one has Jason puzzled, but he decides to check the rest of the numbers out first before doubling back to figure out the last one. 

The numbers beneath are shaded grey, a quick check back to the email from Tam says Tim asked those numbers to not be called until further notice unless deemed absolutely necessary by Jason. A quick thrum of emotion rushes through him, that Tim trusts him enough to put him down as the person in charge of not only finding him, but deciding who is best to find him. 

It’s horrifying that Tim trusts Jason, and not one of his friends with this responsibility. On the other hand, kid only recently found out that most of his friends are alive again. He probably just hasn’t had the time to change it ‘round. 

So Jason moves on before that train of thought can get anymore disturbing, or his heart can burn anymore for Tim, who feels that the only one who cares is the one who has not only bled and broken him, but who has tried to viciously murder him for no greater a sin than trying to help people. 

A quick perusal of the rest reveals some JL members and Batman and co. And Jason feels his vision tunnel an’ heart rate kick up. 

Tim has Batman and Co. on a no-call list. 

Either Tim thinks Batman no longer cares for him, or Tim is so desperate to prove himself to everyone that he refuses to allow anyone other than those closest to him help. 

As much as Jason has his own problems with B, he would still want him to eventually be on a list to be called to search for him. Batman is relentless, and knows how to utilize any resources available, and some that aren’t. So this…this is concerning…and probably the reason Tim left the contacting of them to Jason. Fuck. 

But this is not the problem right now, not the focus. Head in the game Jason. 

One problem at a time, he shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Tim might not need to reconcile and be an active part of B’s whole, big, happy family charade, but the kid really is doing everything he can to push away the people who could actually help him. And that, that’s not good. Jason hopes he is reading more into this than he should, but fears Tim is already suffering some of the more extreme effects of not having a pack, and if that ain’t it, then the alternative really is worse. No matter what way you’re lookin’ at this sitch, it don’t read well. 

Jason heaves a deep breath. Whoooo-saaaaaawwww. 

Ok, back to the rest of the numbers and who to call. 

Jason clocks Superboy, if he has the same ability as Clark, then he could really cut back the time to finding Tim. And wow, how did none of them think to have anyone look for him using one of the supers? Kid Flash if he is available would be awesome. 

Before he goes any further down the list, Jason checks the superhero database. The one thing from the League that everyone has followed. It is essentially a schedule for who is available for crisis. Who is recovering from injuries or just taking time off. The only Titan on the active list is the clone. So he is the first one Jason contacts. 

It’s not long before Superboy crash meets Jason on top of WE’s roof. Why WE? Because it is one of the only easily recognizable buildings in Gotham that won’t attract a ton of attention. Superboy may frequent Gotham under Tim’s guard, but that doesn’t mean he is at all familiar with it. Jason has heard many complaints from Tim about how long it takes Superboy to find the right buildings in Gotham. Jason can understand, what with B’s no-meta rule, ‘at makes it kinda hard for a meta ta get ta know a city. 

Except, Superboy isn’t alone, he has Kid Flash tucked under an arm like a misbehaving toddler. The stories Jason has heard from Tim, well, that doesn’t sound far off. 

***

A long argument follows, and turns out, even the Titans know somethin’s been up with Tim and the Bats for quite some time, going so far to admit to Jason that they’d been told not to contact them even before Tim left in search of Bruce. Well, the Titans that had been alive had relayed that info on. 

Evidently, they were also concerned about Tim, but feared going to the Bats about it would only make matters worse. Besides, they were all on a bit of vacay to first get their own heads on straight. But they did have a plan of sorts in the bank about sittin’ Tim down and findin’ out just what happened in their absence. That has Jason figuring even they probably don’t know about Tim’s caste, and Jason is certainly not going to burst that bubble, but he isn’t going to do anything to stop it happening either. 

Jason had mentioned in passing involving B and the rest, and had met resounding resistance and disapproval, he had argued his way up to calling them before they head out on their own search for Tim. 

“No way man! You can’t call them!” 

And Kid’s own exclamation of “He won’t trust us if we just turn him over!” 

“Kid,” Jason shuffled his feet and glanced away for a moment. “They need ta know,” and seeing SB open his mouth Jason quickly cut him off before he could spew anymore anger and teenage angst. “We don’t gotta invite ‘em along, but least we need ta do is let ‘em know somethin’s going down, yeah?” 

Jason then had to sit back and watch them talk with facial expressions alone for a few terse seconds before SB nodded. 

“Alright, but not until we take off with our own plan, or even better yet, find him.”

“I kin agree to that.” Jason says. “Before we leave, they still deserve ta know what’s goin’ on, and even if they didn’t, it’s good to have back up. Somebody knowing where we took off to.” 

“Alrighty, so now, who else we contacting on his little list?” Jason asks them, they are clearly more up to date on Tim than anyone else Jason has found. 

SB shrugs, but Bart tilts his head back in thought. 

“He told us in passing, at the end of our yay!-not-dead celebration that if he were ever in trouble, that you would probably find out first and would reach out to us.” Bart looks to him, “And if one of us knew he was in trouble, to go to you first before the other bats. That Tam would give us whatever useful info she had, and a longer list of helpful contacts. You get that off her yet?”

Jason nods, ignoring the twinge in his chest, a swirl of new protectiveness, and a clench of sympathy pain for the kid. “Yeah actually, little shit’s gotta have all the Leaguers blacked out for worst-case an’ besides your little group here.” He gestures to the two of them briefly. “In fact,” Jason snorts, “he only has one other name on there, maybe you guys’ll know what it means.” 

“We can look it over, see if we recognize it.” SB offers with a tight smile, more of a grimace. 

So Jason shows them the Iraq number in the excel spread on his phone, they both lean in and squint at it, brows pulled in confused expressions. 

“Got nothing,” SB says with a light shrug, even as he still looks thoughtful. 

“Wait,” Bart leans in closer for a better look, and Jason tilts the screen towards him so he can see easier. “That isn’t an Iraq area code, it only has two area code numbers.” 

They all stare contemplatively at it. 

“Does that really matter though? Do either of you know who this is?” Jason re-asserts. 

“Nope.” 

“Got nothing, dude.” 

“Welp, hopefully Tam can shed some light on this, whoever it is probably ain’t geographically close enough ta be much help anyway. Besides, I ain’t got the money for an international call.” Jason says. “Anyway, let’s head out and get a full-fledged plan if we ain’t involving the bats, that’d be embarrassing if it goes sideways.” And Jason gives them careful directions to his safehouse, where they can mash their heads together and think of where and who to start with in the Great Search for Tim. 

***

It is officially 3 AM, and they are done. They’ve chased down every known Tim hidey-hole and then some, have searched every possible paper trail, chemtrail, e-trail any-trail they can, and they still can’t find anything. They had even tried getting Kon to find him through his sense in a couple of different places, on the ground, in the sewers, near the docks, on top of buildings, and nothing. SB says wherever Tim is, it is probably lead-lined. Meaning Tim probably weren’t snatched as Tim Drake. 

Which makes it all the more surprising when Jason hears Oracle call in over the comms that Tim’s work car popped up in a chop shop near the docks. Jason had initially fought over whether or not to keep his comm in, but had decided muting it and listening in would be best, if for no other reason than to better hide the two teenaged metas with him. And boy, is he happy he did now. B and Dickie are working further out, and had instantly questioned whether or not Tim had just retired the car, so Jason had Kid Flash hurry him to the chop shop, leaving SB to just meet him there. Man, did metas come in handy some days. 

“Hey O, thanks for the tip, you mind, ah, keeping some certain presences to yourself fer now, doll?” Jason hit her up on the down low. 

“Not for long, what happened that you decided to become a team player?” She asked. 

“Tam called, and before ya get all upset, I plan on telling B later tonight, if we find somethin’.” He tells her. Lord knows a mad Oracle isn’t something anyone wants, but thankfully she is understanding, having gone toe-to-toe with B in her own right in the past, and having seen how Dickie and B drifted apart violently in Dickie’s teen years. Sometimes it’s better to only step in when necessary. 

“I expect all that info tied in a neat bow with coffee and dinner by the end of the night, Hood.” Is all she says, clear warning in her tone. “Let me know where I can be of help.” 

“Actually… you can do me a solid, please?” 

“Oh, and that would be?” She asks, warily, “I’m not sending Batman or Nightwing off on a goose chase.” 

“Course not, darlin’,” he soothes her, “can ya check out any info on Tim ‘bout Iraq or this number? Got th’ info offa Tam outta Timmy’s office.” He rattles of the number from the spread sheet as he starts breaking into the warehouse housing Tim’s car. SB and Kid awkwardly hover behind him. The next few minutes pass, O’s keys clacking and mouse clicking in his ear, Kid zooms around to check the perimeter, while SB stands guard watching for cops or anyone else unwanted. The lock finally gives, undamaged enough to hopefully not be noticed by the owners in the morning if they don’t find anything. 

“Hey, Muscle,” Jason calls out to Superboy. “Come put your body to good use and help open this.” It’s a simple garage door set up, easier to get cars in and out of, but a pain in the ass to lift up from the outside. 

Superboy does so without straining and holds it open for Jason and Kid Flash to step inside. 

Once they’re all inside, they split up to look for the car. “What type ah car did Timmy drive ag’in, O?” Jason asks.  
“Just look for the most generic looking car you can find in there, that’ll be it.” O tells him. 

After a few long moments, Superboy calls out. “Hey, Hood! Think I found it.” 

Bart and Jason both head over to the darkest corner, of course, gotta have that melodramatic feel to it, Jason sighs to himself. But sure enough, there is a Honda civic, late 90s model, beige, couple of dents and dings from initial eyes-on from the passenger side. Then he rounds it. 

“Damn!” the frame can’t be straight no more, clear car accident, driver’s side is caved in. No way this ain’t intentional, he grimaces, and his chest fills with fear. This ain’t a low-level anybody, they knew who Tim was. Either a high-end ransom or revenge plot against WE, or someone knows who he is. 

“Iraq is mentioned in Tim’s report from finding Bruce.” O interupts, disrupting Jason’s thoughts. 

“Thanks O, but got some pertinent info for ya here.” He crouches by the driver’s side and peers in, spots some blood on the dash beneath the blown-out airbag, and some more on the door, seat belt has obviously been cut. 

*** 

After sharing all the info Jason could get from the car with O, he dusted it for prints and sent those to her as well, he left the rest to O, she was already scouring video following Tim’s car. Hard work considering they didn’t even know where to start. Initial thought was WE, but the car wasn’t there the morning of his kidnapping, so there was a lot of ground to cover. 

“While O runs th’ info, should run back ta mine, take a breather and refresh.” He tells Kid Flash and Superboy. They try to argue, but he cuts them off with some solid TimTM talk. “Now if’n this situation was th’ other way, you’ns and T looking for me,” he tells them, “T would be reminding ya that yer worse than useless if’n ya mess up ‘cause yer too exhausted. I’m not saying we’re done, cause we ain’t but let’s top our tank and regroup, see what we can’t figure out. Hopefully Tam’s got some good info for us.” They sullenly agree, and are heading out when O informs them that she is pulling rank and informing the rest of the Bat Co. 

A little crestfallen, more concerned, and just a little bit (too much) exhausted, they arrive at Jason’s safehouse. Once they filter inside, Jason shoos them off individually to shower. He sets a pot to brew some soothing Chamomile and Lavender tea. Heavens know they could use a de-stressor before clocking in for the night at – Jason squints at his microwave clock - 5 AM, Jesus. That’s late even by bat standards. 

Jason refreshes his email one last time, hoping for an update on the partial prints Jason managed to pull, O is currently running them through every database known to man, even the death index. This job can be so weird. 

Jason sets his phone down, pours himself a healthy cup of tea, and slides another to Kid, to Bart. And of course, right after he set his phone down, it pings. And he can’t help but grumble at it a little bit. He just wants to sleep now, there is a plan in action, they’ve got some leads, and there is nothing Jason can be useful for right now. 

He checks it anyway. And immediately chokes on his tea. 

It’s from Tam, and the subject line is one word. Pru. He skims the body, which is concise and just tells him that it’s from Tim’s holiday jaunt in Europe, a friend he made there. 

Jason clicks his comm back in and hits up O. “Why is th’ name Pru so familiar?” 

“Where did you catch that name?” O demands, much harsher than normal. 

“That’s Timmy’s unknown.” Jason tells her. “But I don’t know where I’ve heard it before.” 

“When you got hit with Fear toxin, Tim called the assassin that snagged you Pru. Where did you say you got that info from again?” O’s voice is all business. “Tim wouldn’t tell us what relation they had but they seemed to know each other well, and Tim refused to elaborate when Batman cornered him over it.” 

Jason frowned, and tried to think back. “Huh. They gotta have some sorta solid history, for her to be on Tam’s list. Thanks, O.” He tells her good night and closes the line. 

He gives Bart and Superboy, who had just walked in while toweling his hair, a considering look, before pulling his phone back up and dialing the number on speaker. He sets it on the counter between them, and takes a long drag off his tea as the line rings. 

It almost rings out, before he hears the line open. There’s no noise of acknowledgement, but a lot of background noise. So Jason breaks the silence. 

“Is this Pru?” 

“Whadaya want, spit it fast before I hunt you down and spit ya full of lead fur wasting m’ time laddie buck.” The same gravelly voice from that night filters through, and holy shit, this is who Tim is running around with? Just what did Baby bird get up to in Europe? A quick glance at the other two shows him matching shocked faces. 

“You’re on a list.” He tells her, awkwardly. What do you say to the person who kicked your ass and held you hostage for zero clear reason? The incident at the docks still don’t make sense, whoever was heading those shipments had ta of paid out the nose for her. 

“I’m on all sortsa lists,” comes the curt response. 

“A list involving a certain flying bird, who traveled in Europe recently.” Jason grimaces at the almost poetic, riddle-like tone but doesn’t want to give anything away if she doesn’t know his identity. And she had better not or B is not the only one gonna be havin’ words with Red when they find ‘im. 

“Ah! Bossman! Sure, an’ you must be Red Hood! Listen, I’ll give ya an update on ‘im if ya keep me under the radar of certain night creatures for a few days, you know, a little distraction here and there.” 

“I, ah, um,” Jason looks to the other two who wear matching shocked and perplexed expressions, anxiety now cranked to the max for Red. “Sure, I can’t promise you anythin’ though.” He stutters out, hoping he won’t regret it. 

“Well, that’s prolly the best I’mma get, so listen, so I owe Bossman a few favors, and well, they coincided with Ra’s.” Alarm races down Jason’s spine, chilling him to the core. “Ra’s don’t like anybody playing with his toys, you know? But Bossman is fine and dandy, in fact, I just dropped the Bossman off at his Nest with the mother hens three, cool your heels and chill out dudes.” 

Click. 

The line goes dead.


End file.
